


A Simple Task

by supersmileys (gingerninja)



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mental Illness, Season 5 Spoilers, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4347800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerninja/pseuds/supersmileys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey has been given a simple task: to ask Donna to attend one of his therapy sessions with him.  But when following instructions means letting his therapist win, Harvey Specter would rather make things difficult.</p><p>Contains spoilers for Season 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reservation

“I would like you to ask Donna to accompany you to your next session.” Dr Agard is out of her mind. First of all, she’s assuming that Harvey is going to attend another session with her. Even though she’s probably right, especially if she deems that Harvey hasn’t done enough to warrant more medication. And secondly, she’s asking the impossible.  
  
“You’re shitting me, right? That’s never going to happen.” The office is large, and even wider is the gap that Harvey is keeping between himself and his therapist. Despite the number of sessions Harvey has had with her, he’s still extremely standoffish. If Dr Agard’s going to make him sit through these pointless sessions in order to refill his prescription, he isn’t going to make things easy for her.  
  
“Because you don’t want her to come, or because you don’t want to ask her?” she clasps her hands together as she questions him. Harvey has noticed that Dr Agard does this whenever she asks a question that she thinks has him cornered. It also means that Harvey has spent far too many sessions in her office already if he’s noticing things like this.  
  
“It doesn’t matter, because she’s not going to say yes.” His expertise at deflecting questions has come from the numerous years he’s spent as an attorney. If Harvey Specter doesn’t want to answer a question, he won’t.  
  
“I find it interesting how you’re not even willing to try.” Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean that Dr Agard won’t stop trying to get him to cooperate.   
  
“I don’t give a shit what you think is interesting.” Harvey leans back on the couch, putting both his hands behind his head. He knows that she is trying to bait him into accepting her challenge, but he won't bite.  
  
“Then why are you here?” Harvey finds it hard to believe that he is her most difficult patient, but she sure as hell makes him feel that way sometimes. She’s very good at giving him disappointed stares. The minute he walks into the door every week, she can take one look and _know_ whether or not he’s heeded her advice. And if he hasn’t, Dr Agard has no trouble expressing the futility of giving him medication if he’s going to become dependent on it.  
  
“You know why I’m here.” To delve into his psyche. To unravel his id. To sift through his subconscious, or whatever the hell it is therapists tell themselves so they can sleep at night. And at the end of the session, he gets to leave with just enough medication to get him through the week. Dr Agard asks him this question almost every single week, and he’s beginning to wonder why himself. For the most part, he’s _fine._ But Dr Agard has this idea in her head that he’s regressed since his attempt at roleplay with ‘Donna’ just because he refuses to speak about what was said during that particular session.  He’ll talk when he thinks it’s necessary to discuss it, and not a moment before.  
  
“Well, while you’re here, you may as well _pretend_ that you’ll listen to me. Or perhaps I should increase the number of required sessions to twice a week before I’ll write another prescription.” It’s a thinly veiled threat, one that she brings up only when she’s at her wits end. It’s the last resort for whenever he’s being particularly obstinate. Thankfully for Dr Agard, Harvey hasn’t yet developed immunity to such a possibility. If he had, he wouldn’t be so uncooperative in the first place.    
  
“Doesn’t that violate the Eighth Amendment?” Harvey quips sarcastically.   
  
“If you think it’s cruel and unusual punishment, you are perfectly welcome to find another doctor. I doubt the Supreme Court will take your baseless complaint, however.” She sounds unimpressed.  They both know that Harvey won’t look for another doctor. The only thing worse than extra sessions with Dr Agard is having to start from scratch with another therapist.    
  
“She’s not going to say yes.” He has relaxed from his overly confident position on the couch, with one arm sitting on the armrest. Harvey’s making sure that he keeps eye contact with her when he makes such an assertion, because any sign of weakness is like blood to a shark.    
  
“How would you know unless you ask her?” The shark is circling, waiting for him to make a splash.  
  
“Because I _know_ Donna, and I can assure you that she’ll find this just as stupid as I do.” He’s back to calling this whole situation stupid. The truth is, Donna would probably side with Dr Agard, and that’s the last thing he needs. There is nothing less appealing to him than the thought of both his therapist and Donna bonding and discussing how emotionally stunted he is.  
  
“If you know her so well, how could you be surprised that she left you for Louis?”  It’s a necessarily cruel comment; one that works a little too well. Harvey exhales sharply, involuntarily dropping his guard. Dr Agard continues her onslaught now that her prey is weakened.    
  
“I’ll tell you; you _didn’t_ see it coming because you _don’t_ know her as well as you think you do, even though you _should_ have known that her willingness to put up with your nonsense wasn’t infinite!” Truth is often fickle, but Dr Agard speaks a truth that Harvey has refused to admit to himself. He’s unable to meet her eye; it’s difficult to stare her down whilst he’s trying to prevent his throat from closing up.    
  
“It’s a simple task, Harvey. I just want you to ask her. If she says no, then we can deal with that together. I know you can do this.” Her voice has softened, and Harvey can safely look her in the eye again. She has the audacity to smile at him encouragingly, even after the way she delivers a sucker-punch to his chest.  
  
“I think if you give me some more pills, that’ll help.” Their session has come to an end. Dr Agard rolls her eyes, but she stands up to find her prescription pad and a pen. Harvey stands up as well, ready to receive his motivation behind his visits. Dr Agard writes him a prescription and tears it off. But before she hands it to Harvey, she holds it back from his reach.  
  
“Do you _promise_ me that you’ll ask?”  There’s a pause before Harvey gives a single nod.  Dr Agard begrudgingly hands him the prescription. Harvey’s definitely wearing her down. But he figures that he’ll at least attempt her simple task. Just to show his appreciation, even if she doesn’t always deserve it. Besides, how hard can it be?


	2. Fabrication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A moment of silence for the heart-wrenching end of 5x04. I decided to incorporate those events into this chapter a little, because it adds a little spice! I hope you enjoy :)

Forgiveness is cathartic, and Harvey is the closest to forgiveness he’s been so far. The recent case with Louis’ sister made him rethink his attitude to Donna lately and make a slight adjustment to his behaviour. Dr Agard would be proud of him.  
  
But thanking Donna for their time together has proved to be emotionally draining in its aftermath. The realisation that he’s been a real ass and unnecessarily hurtful has sucked the energy out of him. It also irks him that he came to this realisation _without_ the help of Dr Agard. He’s sure that if he brings it up that she’ll find a way to attribute his progress to their sessions together. The prospect of approaching Donna again to ask for this unique favour is rather undesirable. The dust has _just_ settled; he doesn’t wish to send it flying again to serve Dr Agard’s power trip.    
  
That’s why he doesn’t want to ask her. It would be nice to keep the peace.  
  
But he’s Harvey Specter. It’s not as simple as just giving up. He’s been keeping a careful eye on his target all day, trying to figure out the opportune moment to broach the subject. Oh, Harvey’s been doing work as well. Damn good work, as well. But every so often, he’ll enter a situation where it’s an appropriate moment to ask his question. With every little hesitation, the moment passes, and he has to wait for the next moment. What a pity.  
  
It’s 2:30pm when he finally decides to bite the bullet and make the move.    
  
“Rachel, can I ask you something?” Okay. He’s deliberately been avoiding Donna. But he has his reasons. For starters, he and Rachel are forming a decent working relationship. To ask her advice would continue to push it along a positive trajectory. Plus, Donna and Rachel are close friends, and what’s the point in breaking the silence when he can get a perfectly good answer from a (different) reliable source?  
  
“Sure, Harvey, what is it?” she asks warmly, putting her pen down.  
  
“In your professional opinion, what’s the likelihood of Donna having next Tuesday afternoon free?”  
  
“I’d say slim to none. Why do you ask?” They do work at a law firm, after all. It’s the answer that Harvey was expecting ( _hoping_ ) her to give.  
  
“No reason.” The look in Rachel’s eyes he has seen on Donna’s face many times over the years. It’s the look that says ‘ _I don’t believe you’._ But unlike Donna, Rachel has the tact (and probably fear) to not confront him on the matter. Instead, she uses a gentler method to coax him into explaining his motives. Her first instinct was to give a truthful answer to Harvey’s question, but now that she realises that something is up, back-tracking is her next step.  
  
“Of course, I couldn’t confirm that. You might want to ask her yourself.” Or he might not. It’s not the right time. Harvey and Donna haven’t spoken since he thanked her. To have their first conversation be him asking her to do something would be impolite. And Harvey’s a busy man. He doesn’t have time for idle chitchat to ease her into his request. And even though they no longer argue whenever they see each other, he’s not sure whether he can ask her for favours just yet.   Harvey would hate to crunch the new leaf they’ve embarked upon. Plus, talking to Donna increases the chance that he’ll run into Louis, and he’s far harder to forgive than Donna is.  
  
“I’ll take your word for it.” It’s not like Harvey really even _needs_ to ask Donna. If he’s done his job right, Rachel will make sure that Donna finds out. It might just take a little time. 

* * *

  
  
  
“She couldn’t make it.” Harvey’s first words are to deliver the apology for Donna’s absence on her behalf. Dr Agard heaves an exasperated sigh, which Harvey finds to be extremely unprofessional. But he’ll let it slide just this once.  
  
“What did you say to her?” Always so _suspicious._ He knows she’s waiting for him to drop to his knees and spill some dismal confession about maybe trying to ask Donna but accidentally ending up punching her in the face, or something equally as incriminating. But his answer isn’t quite as exciting.    
  
“Donna was busy today.” Her dull gaze as he sits down on the couch opposite her speaks volumes about her disapproval.    
  
“Did you actually ask her to accompany you to your therapy session?” Dr Agard would make a good lawyer. She’s brilliant at seeing through his evasive answers. He could see her performing an excellent cross-examination on a witness. She seems to easily empathise with the pain of hostile witnesses. Not that he’s hostile.  
  
“I asked if she was available. She wasn’t, so I wasn’t going to push her.” It’s not technically a lie. He _did_ ask if she was available.  Harvey only promised to ask, he didn’t agree to the part of the assignment that specified who he was actually meant to ask. Of course, a decent lawyer would be able to poke holes in his reasoning. It’s a good thing that Dr Agard isn’t actually an attorney.  
  
“But you’re somehow happy to keep pushing her away.” _Why_ does she do that? He’s fairly certain that it’s not in her job description to make snide remarks in an attempt to provoke a response. Therapists aren’t meant to judge.    
  
“Can we talk about something else?” Harvey won’t dignify her comment by addressing it directly.  
  
“Absolutely. Let’s discuss your revenge fantasies.” Dr Agard says earnestly, settling back in her seat. Harvey’s a little suspicious about how easily she accepts his request to change the subject, especially given – _wait a minute_ -   
  
“ _Revenge fantasies_?” Harvey looks over his shoulder and scans the room; surely she can’t be talking about _his_ revenge fantasies! But alas, the room is empty apart from the pair of them. “I don’t have any revenge fantasies.”  
  
“ _’When someone sticks a knife in your gut, I feel like I want to twist it back_.’” She’s a poor mimic. When Mike imitates Harvey, he at least makes an attempt to try and create a likeness to Harvey - even if it’s in poor taste.  Dr Agard hasn’t even tried to sound like him. She has just repeated words that he said as though she’s a lifeless news reader.  
  
 “I don’t see the connection.” Playing ignorant is a smarter move than reacting negatively to her implications. If Dr Agard wants him to talk about something, she’s going to have to spell it out for him.  
  
“Don’t you?” Harvey doesn’t appreciate her condescending tone.  
  
“It’s called _self-defence_. There’s a difference,” Harvey replies in a slow, patronising voice. Two can play at that game. Dr Agard leans back in her seat, frowning as she ponders his answer.  
  
“What good is a defence if they’ve already stabbed you?” It’s the first genuine question that she has asked him. Her tone is one of genuine curiosity. Dr Agard is not afraid to admit that she doesn’t fully understand this concept.    
  
“To stop them from hurting you again.” _Duh._ But as soon as he answers, it becomes apparent that Dr Agard could be lulling him into a false sense of security; instantly, Harvey puts his guard back up. She has lead him back into dangerous territory.  
  
“You do realise that by not asking Donna, you’re giving her more power to hurt you.” _There it is._ Harvey needs to be more careful with his answers; he’s making it easy for Dr Agard to make value judgments on situations she is clueless about.  
  
“If you say so.” She’s completely wrong. By not asking Donna, Harvey’s keeping the ball in his court. He’s in full control of the situation.  
  
“Have you even spoken to her lately?” If Harvey doesn’t tell her the truth, she’s going to think that he’s too afraid to ask. Which he’s not.  
  
“I thanked her for our time together,” Harvey replies defensively. _Finally,_ something that Dr Agard approves of.  
  
“Good for you,” Dr Agard says, and she sounds sincere. “What lead you to do that?” If she’s waiting for him to implicate her in his accomplishment, then she’s going to be disappointed.  
  
“Well, it was nothing that you said to me.” Harvey doesn’t want her to take the credit for his own decision. He also doesn’t feel like going into detail about Esther and her case, because that will open up the opportunity for a whole new line of questioning. Dr Agard doesn’t need any more fuel than she already has.  
  
“No, of course not. I just write the prescriptions,” she replies sarcastically, throwing a defeated hand to the wind.  
  
“That’s right,” Harvey smiles, somewhat cheekily. It’s nice to see that she’s learning.  
  
“Next time, Harvey, I want you to actually ask Donna in person.  Don’t try and ‘lawyer’ your way out of it. If you can swallow your pride once to thank Donna, you can do it again.” For once, she’s right. Harvey is perfectly capable of swallowing his pride. Hell, Jessica makes him do so almost daily. And he’ll do it right now by allowing Dr Agard to believe that it’s because of his pride that he hasn’t yet spoken to Donna.  
  
“That’s all you had to ask. I’ll talk to her.” Dr Agard seems like the sort of person who appreciates the feeling of _earning_ her paycheck. But at the same time, Harvey is a reasonable man. It would be harsh of him to make things too difficult for her. If it will make Dr Agard _that happy,_ then he would be cruel to not at least try. He just hopes that she’s prepared for the possibility that her simple task isn’t exactly the _easiest_ one.    


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, we will actually be seeing Donna before the story ends.


	3. Relegation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the massive delay! I've been internally wrangling with the show's canon and sequence of events. This chapter takes place just after 5x05, so it now officially deviates from the two most recent episodes. I hope you enjoy!

One positive outcome from his unceremonious departure from his last session with Dr Agard is that now, he need not bother Donna with her bullshit assignment. He can proceed with his life and not have to worry about finding the right time. Of course, not everyone has received the memo.  All the people he has interacted with recently has no idea that Harvey’s circumstances have changed, and are operating exactly as before.  
  
“Ms Paulsen wants to see you.”  
  
“Send her in,” Harvey says absently, not looking up from his work. Owing to his failure to pay proper attention to Gretchen, he’s taken aback when he looks up to find Donna standing right in front of him.    
  
“What are you doing here?!” he asks, trying to mask his shock. And it _is_ shock that he’s experiencing; it’s been so long since he and Donna last spoke. Let alone have her standing before him. He hasn’t even had time lately to invent reasons why he can’t or won’t ask Donna to attend. Harvey has been imagining a number of elaborate scenarios in which he would even broach the subject; most of which involve alcohol. But since he freed himself from the obligations of therapy, it has all slipped his mind. Until now.  
  
“Oh _shoot_ , is this not Harvey Specter’s office? Dammit, not again,” she sighs sarcastically, shaking her head. “Do you know where I might find him?”   
  
“I meant, _why_ are you here?”  
  
“Why don’t you take a guess,” Donna suggests, stepping away from his desk and making herself comfortable on one of his chairs.  
  
“You’ve been talking to Rachel,” Harvey replies without surprise. It had been his intention when he first asked Rachel after all. Since he unofficially fired Dr Agard, he’s been hoping that everyone’s forgotten about his mysterious behaviour. But luck is not on his side.    
  
“And Gretchen,” Donna affirms. Harvey shoots a dark glance out the door. Gretchen’s been under _strict instruction_ not to say anything, and he takes this apparent transgression very seriously. Donna follows his gaze and is quick to quash his assumptions.   
  
"Oh, don’t worry, Gretchen didn't say anything. I couldn’t even get a clue out of her.” Harvey knows that it’s not from a lack of trying. He allows himself a small smile of pride as he gets up from his desk to pour himself a glass of water. Harvey offers her a glass, but she shakes her head.  This puts Harvey on alert. She obviously doesn’t think their conversation will last long. Harvey’s not quite sure why this makes him anxious; it could be the implication that Donna thinks she’ll get the answer she wants quickly, or because he feels a short visit isn’t long enough – given how little time they’ve spent together lately.  
  
“Are you pulling off a heist? I thought we only did that on Thursdays. Or is it an initiation into a secret society? It can’t be, because Rachel and Gretchen both know about your meetings. Unless they’re in on it too…” She reclines on his chair, just like old times. It’s a familiar tune, and Harvey’s more than happy to let it play out. Donna’s slowly easing him into talking with a couple of light-hearted jokes. The emotional punch will soon follow, but for now Harvey’s perfectly satisfied with listening to her spitball ideas on what he could possibly have in mind. The more Donna talks, the less he has to. But unfortunately for Harvey, the jokes will soon come to an end. Donna tilts her head over in Harvey’s direction as a thought occurs to her. She takes a few seconds to search his face before posing her question.  
  
“Did you need me to help you bury a body?”  Harvey lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Mike has just stepped into the room, and upon hearing Donna’s most recent question, he decides it’s a perfect time to try and retreat quietly back out the door.  
  
“Keep guessing.” If Donna can figure out where he’s been going, then that saves him even more hassle. He’ll be even happier if the answers are as flippant as those she’s suggested already. There’s no need to turn things serious before they need to be.  
  
“Does Mike know about it?” Donna asks; Mike turns on his heel, slightly concerned about what he is privy to that Donna isn’t. If it’s related to Harvey’s panic attacks, he doesn’t want to be the one to have to explain. Mike can hold his ground with Harvey, but if Donna puts the pressure on him all bets are off.  
  
“Oh, Mike doesn’t know anything,” Harvey replies with a grin. He knows that as long as he can keep Mike in the room, then the conversation won’t turn south.  
  
“Um, ouch!” Mike says indignantly. It’s great that Donna and Harvey are communicating again, but there’s no need for personal attacks.  He flashes Harvey a look as if to say ‘ _what the hell?!_ ’ Harvey shakes his head almost imperceptibly. There are times when Harvey’s willing to stick up for Mike, but today’s not the day. If Mike were less affronted by Harvey’s comment, he’d also notice that Harvey’s trying to send him SOS signals. They go unnoticed.  
  
“I’m clearly interrupting something, so I’ll just leave before you can slander me further.” It’s for Mike’s own self-preservation more than anything.  
  
“It’s not slander if it’s true,” Harvey murmurs, trying to elicit a smile from Donna. Anything to keep up the light-hearted mood. She smirks at him, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.  
  
“I heard that!” Mike says loudly, but he’s not provoked enough to stay and defend his position. He wisely exits before he lets something slip. Mike’s departure leaves behind a prickly silence as Harvey and Donna are alone once again. Only this time, the pretences are to be dropped.  
  
“I thought we were done with this bullshit,” Donna says, her smile faltering.  
  
“What bullshit?” Harvey’s planning on playing dumb for as long as is plausible. Donna takes a moment to sigh, deflating in her seat. It’s a horrible sound. Her sighs are usually more exasperated at Harvey’s apparent incompetence on the issue of the day. He’s used to _those_ sighs – he knows that they’re a sign of endearment. This sigh is unfamiliar. It’s softer, almost involuntary. As though Harvey has physically forced the last bit of air from her lungs.  
  
“If you wanted to ask me something, why didn’t you just ask me?” Donna doesn’t even look angry; it’s a weary expression that she carries. It takes most of Harvey’s willpower to hold her gaze. His instinct is to lower his eyes in shame from causing her obvious disappointment.  
  
“I wanted a little bit of time before-” Harvey cuts himself off, and Donna is quick to leap on his hesitation. She’s one of the few people who can read him better than Dr Agard, and his failure to finish his sentence tells her more than anything he could have said.  It ignites a spark, and Donna’s no longer looking so lifeless. She’s adopted an offensive stance.  
  
“Before _what_? What is it that you can’t tell me? No, _won’t_ tell me?!” His self-censorship has always been a sticking point with Donna. Harvey looks at her unhappily, still unsure how to answer. It doesn’t matter, however; Donna continues to heap on the accusations.  
  
“You keep doing this, Harvey. Instead of telling me what the hell’s going on, you send me on a wild goose chase because of your goddamn cryptic message that you don’t even want to tell me. I’m sick of _running_ and picking up after you and your immaturity. I can’t do it anymore!” As if she’s not doing it all the time now with Louis.  
  
“Donna, I’m trying!” Harvey fires back at her. She has _no_ idea.  He has spent a ridiculous amount of time lately sitting in a room, being forced to purge his feelings so that they can just be criticised and analysed under a microscopic lens. The assumptions that she’s making are _wrong,_ and Donna can’t see it because she’s never open to the idea. Harvey’s not the only person with issues to work through, and he resents the implication otherwise.  
  
“Well, try harder,” Donna snaps at him. Their conversation has run its natural course; she stands up and leaves without another word. Harvey doesn’t even watch her exit; his eyes are fixed on his mostly full glass of water. She was right to refuse it. 

* * *

  
  
  
After a day, Harvey’s realising how much of an ass he has been. So this time, Harvey’s the one standing at Donna’s desk, armed with an apology, an explanation and a promise to make it up to her. But his peace offering is rejected before he even gets the chance to give it to her.  
  
“Harvey, I’m busy.”  
  
“It won’t take a minute. Just hear me out.” Harvey’s willing to take the plunge. He’s even timed himself – it really _won’t_ take more than a minute. All he needs is a willing listener. One who he doesn’t have to pay exorbitant hourly rates to do so.  
  
“Is someone dying?” Donna glares at him impatiently. It’s so full of vitriol it’s as though they’re back to square one. It’s hard to see any possibility of forgiveness and understanding in her eyes.  
  
“…No.” Only his resolve.  
  
“Then I’m not interested.”  
  
“Donna, _please._ ” He can’t just give up now – _they_ can’t just give up here! Donna knows how serious it is when he’s practically grovelling to her, but she obviously doesn’t care today.  
  
“Do you want a trophy for having the balls to actually come and talk to me first? Because I can’t help you. You’re too late.”    
  
“Donna-”  
  
“What was it?” she cuts him off. Unless he’s willing to give her a straight answer, she’s not willing to give him the time of day.  
  
“I had a thing, it doesn’t matter anymore.” He’s not going back to that hellhole, so there’s no point in him asking her anyway. And in the mood that they’re both in, there’s still that part of him that’s afraid that she’ll laugh in his face if he tells her the truth. Although he’s felt fine lately, his supply of pills is dwindling quickly. It’s a risk he can’t take again.  
  
  
“If it doesn’t matter, then why did you waste time talking to other people about it? You could have either kept your goddamn mouth shut, or talked to me in person. Convince me that this isn’t just a stupid power play.” Her tone is scathing; almost daring. Donna doesn’t think he can do it. And if anyone can make him doubt his abilities, it’s her.  
  
“It’s not a power play. I just didn’t want to bother you.” It’s the weakest possible excuse, and the words feel sour leaving his mouth. He’s not doing himself any favours by misrepresenting himself. All it does is prove her right.  
  
“And yet here you are,” she replies bitterly, turning away from him.

 

* * *

  


  
Dr Agard already knows the outcome when she opens the door to find Harvey standing on the other side. She dully steps back so he can enter her office. Harvey takes his usual spot and they don’t even bother with greetings and pleasantries. He’s prepared to ignore their last argument about his mother for this session. For now, he needs to vent, and Dr Agard is the only one with most of the relevant backstory.  
  
“Alright, Harvey, what happened this time?” Harvey’s appreciative of the fact that Dr Agard has passed on the opportunity to comment on how he keeps returning despite his efforts to break free.  
  
“She told me to try harder.”  
  
“I’m inclined to agree with her,” Dr Agard replies dryly.  
  
“Well, I went back to ask her and to apologise, and she still turned me down!” Why can’t she see his side? Doesn’t she realise that he _is_ trying? That he’s made progress? She of all people should know, given that she’s made him relive his weakest moments time and time again.  
  
 “I’m willing to wager an entire year’s salary that you didn’t even mention the word ‘therapy’.” Harvey doesn’t deny her claim, which all but confirms Dr Agard’s suspicions.  
  
“What’s the point? Donna’s not going to agree with me now.”  
  
“I’m finding it rather difficult to sympathise with you at this point. You’ve gotten yourself into this mess. Figure out a way to make it right.” It’s all very well for her to sit there with judging eyes, casting suggestions without knowing the gravitas of what she is asking. He glowers at Dr Agard and her holier-than-thou attitude. She doesn’t wilt under his glare.  
  
“What if you write her a letter?” she suggests. Harvey doesn’t hide his disdain for the idea.  
  
“She’ll throw it away the second she finds out it’s from me.” A letter is even worse than talking to Donna in person – at least in person he can deny things, clarify things and explain himself. If he were just to leave a letter – assuming Donna were to read it – he’d be unable to defend any assumptions she might make from reading the letter.  
  
“And whose fault is that? I’m sure that if you really put your mind to it, you could find an opportunity to fix the situation. You _are_ Harvey Specter, after all.” There’s a touch of sarcasm in her voice, but if anything it strengthens his confidence. Her use of sarcasm tells him that she doesn’t find him quite so delicate. He can handle it.  
  
Harvey doesn’t ask Dr Agard to renew his prescription this time.


	4. Intoxication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode 5x08 dropped an absolute golden egg in my lap. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to work it into the story! So please bear in mind that this chapter contains spoilers for 5x08.

After the horrific past few days, Harvey decides that it’s now the perfect time to self-medicate. But there’s no fun in doing that alone, and company allows it to be a socially acceptable practice. Plus, he could use Mike’s mind to help him work through his mental conundrum.  


“What’s up, Junior? We need to celebrate. There’s a glass of very expensive scotch with your name on it,” Harvey says affectionately. His apartment is far too spacious tonight and Harvey needs to get the hell out of there. He’s already heading out the door as he’s making his call.  
  
“Oh, you’re calling me _Junior_ now?” Mike sounds offended, but Rachel lets out a laugh in the background. Harvey is pleased that his joke is well-received by someone, at least.  
  
“It suits you. Meet me outside the firm in an hour so we can go and celebrate.” There’s a hesitant pause, and Harvey can _see_ the concerned glance that Mike is undoubtedly giving Rachel.  
  
“Harvey, it’s Thursday night.” He knows what that’s code for.  Tomorrow is his suspension hearing. And that’s all the more reason to drink. He doesn’t want to spend the night worrying about the possible outcome, or whether Donna will pull through, or whether he can even cope when he’s been without his medication for several days now. Dwelling over the meeting will not put him in the right frame of mind, and alcohol is the only solution that Harvey can think of.  
  
“So? This could be the start of a very long weekend for me,” He can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. If the meeting doesn’t go in his favour tomorrow, all he has to look forward to for the next three months will be meetings with Dr Agard. It’s highly unlikely that sessions with her will help with the insanity he’ll plunge into if he can’t work for three months. There’s a reason why he never takes vacations. If he stops, he’ll crash; _hard._ Harvey can handle deadlines and pressure; he will juggle, push things around and manipulate, but for everything to _stop_? The thought is incomprehensible. The less time he has alone with his mind, the better. Luckily, Mike understands this, and he doesn’t put up a further fight.  
  
“I’ll be there in a half hour.”

* * *

  
  
Within forty minutes, Harvey is pushing a drink into Mike’s hand.  
  
“Congratulations,” he commends Mike, barely giving Mike a second to clink glasses with him before he’s downed his first drink. Mike takes a more conservative sip. Harvey’s not going to let Mike’s slow drinking set the pace for the evening. He sets his now empty glass on the table as a challenge to his friend. Mike, on the other hand, knows that there’s a reason why Harvey’s on the bullet train to intoxication.  
  
“I heard what happened with Louis,” Mike says sympathetically. They’ve had few chances to talk seriously in recent weeks, and it’s clear that things are quickly falling apart.  
  
“Louis is a _dick,_ ” Harvey announces, loudly enough that a few people turn around to give him disgruntled looks. He ignores them, and summons a waiter to order another drink. This time, he orders two tequila shots. By the time they arrive, Mike’s still not finished with his first drink. Harvey gives Mike a disapproving look.  
  
“You’re never going to catch up at this rate…” When Mike makes no movement to take the tequila shot, Harvey downs them both.  
  
“Tequila? Are you 20 years old?” Mike shudders. He wants to suggest that maybe Harvey should slow down a _little,_ but he knows there’s little point. Harvey will stop exactly when he’s ready, and not a moment before. In fact, if Mike can keep up the slow pace compared to Harvey’s, then it might be easier for him to get Harvey to open up a little.  

* * *

  
  
“I need your advice,” Harvey finally confesses after their fifth round of drinks (closer to seven or eight for Harvey). The number of empty glasses and bottles is starting to clutter up the table. Mike pretends to choke on his drink; the charade lasts for a full minute. After the first ten seconds, Harvey is unimpressed. But he lets Mike have his moment of surprise. It’ll likely never occur again.  
  
“What? _What?!_ You want _my_ advice? My, my, the apprentice has finally become the master,” Mike boasts, leaning back in his seat. “Go ahead, bring forth your questions, peasant.” At least Dr Agard never called Harvey _peasant._ Mike’s already letting the power go to his head. A quick glance at Mike’s hairstyle answers the question of which part of his head the power has risen to. But Harvey knows that his dilemma will bring Mike back down to earth.  
  
  
“It’s about Donna.” Mike’s confident smile drops as predicted; he’s faked many things, but he would never pretend to be an expert on Donna. There’s an inherent understanding that Donna and Harvey know more about each other than Mike could ever hope to achieve.  
  
“Harvey, I don’t know if I can help you with that. Donna’s… _Donna_.” Mike waves a hand in the air as he tries to elaborate further, but to avail. He gives Harvey a helpless shrug, but Harvey proceeds with his problem anyway.   
  
“I have to ask her something, but she’s barely talking to me.”  She’ll talk to him about Louis, but that’s as far as it goes.  
  
“Have you got a ring?” Mike proffers without even knowing what the question is.   
  
“Very funny.” The younger man has obviously gotten caught up in wedding fever. Harvey suspects his dreams are probably teeming with cake tiers and floral patterns. He almost envies Mike. It’s better than the dreams that he’s had of late – involving a Travis Tanner that was far too naked for his liking.  
  
“That wasn’t a joke!” Mike retorts. What Harvey wouldn’t give to be in his position. Young, naïve, brilliant and optimistic. Just like how Harvey used to be. Except Harvey was never that naïve. Harvey shakes his head pitifully at Mike’s suggestion. The slow, moody music in the background matches Harvey’s current sentiment. There’s no surefire way to guarantee that Donna will listen to him attempt to salvage the situation.  
  
  
“Maybe I _should_ write her a letter…” Harvey muses glumly, scratching at the label on his bottle of beer. If he gets suspended tomorrow, then he might not get a chance to speak to Donna for a long time. At least with a letter, he can pretend that she might read it.  
  
“I think I need to cut you off.”  Mike confiscates the bottle of beer and slides it across the table. Harvey’s never been a love letter kind of guy (at least, that’s what Mike’s assuming Harvey is considering doing). To start now would be disastrous. What would he even say? Harvey lazily drags his hand across the table to take it back, but it’s out of his reach. Despite the eleven inches between his outstretched hand and the bottle, he still tries to grasp it. It’s so pathetic that Mike slides it back to put Harvey out of his misery.

 

* * *

 

Harvey has a brainwave after drink number nine. Drinking with Mike has been far more conducive to coming up with solutions than multiple sessions with Dr Agard. But he doesn’t fault her for it. Mike has known Harvey a lot longer than she has, and he is far less probing. The alcohol has nothing to do with it. He doesn’t have much time to implement his plan, however. The self-medication has reached its peak effectiveness, and he’ll need to get home soon before he crashes. Harvey stands up quickly, and he has to grip the table to stop himself from swaying violently.  
  
“We’ve gotta get out of here. I need to go back to the office.”  
  
“I – but - ” Mike gestures helplessly at the drinks on their table. Mike’s beer is still two-thirds full. Harvey shakes his head sorrowfully as he throws several bills on the table.  
  
“There’s no time. We have to go now.” Mike lets out a little whine as he follows Harvey out the door and into a cab.  
  
“Why are we _doing_ this?” Mike’s nowhere near as drunk as Harvey, but it doesn’t mean he can figure out Harvey’s thought process.  
  
  
“I’m going to leave Donna a message on Louis’ dictaphone. That way she _has_ to listen to it.” It’s a completely foolproof plan. And it’s also his last hope to do something right before Louis screws him over at the meeting tomorrow. Best of all, it ticks all of the boxes. It’s daring, creative and it gets the job done.  
  
“So…drunk dialling?” Mike’s completely missing the point.

“I can’t believe we made you Junior Partner.”   


* * *

 

“Harvey, this is wrong. We can’t be here.”  The ‘Pearson’ and ‘Litt’ names in the hallway are more intimidating at night.   
  
“What are they gonna do, suspend me?” Each time Harvey mentions the possible suspension, it doesn’t feel any less bitter. The advice he constantly receives from Dr Agard about talking about difficult matters making things easier is bullshit. Talking about how he might be suspended, even if he jokes about it, just reminds him of the shit he’s in. But he can’t dwell on this right now. He starts carefully rifling through Louis’ desk drawers. Harvey’s so fixated on finding it that he doesn’t notice Mike leave the room with a worried look on his face.  
  
The dictaphone is nowhere to be seen in Louis’ office. Harvey’s first thought is that Louis has taken it home for the night. But there’s one place that he hasn’t checked. Harvey makes slow, deliberate paces out the door before he stands before Donna’s desk. For the first time since he’s arrived at the firm, the hesitancy hits him.  A hundred screaming warnings are going off in his head to just give up and go home. But he’s gotten this far. And he needs to have accomplished _something_ by morning, lest the hearing go sour. Harvey pushes the doubt aside, and enters Donna’s cubicle.  


_Jackpot!_ Louis’ dictaphone is sitting in Donna’s top desk drawer. He remembers her vaguely mentioning transcribing all the recordings that Louis makes. So if he borrows it to create a message, Donna will be guaranteed to hear it. All he has to do is ensure that Donna hears it before Louis. Not that it would matter at this point, given Harvey’s genuine outpouring to Louis about what he’s been going through. But if Louis hears it first, it’ll inevitably get deleted without aforethought – and without Donna finding out. And it will be back to square one again. But a sudden wave of curiosity overcomes his sense of mission.  
  
“Let’s see what the bastard’s planning,” Harvey mutters, as he settles down in Donna’s chair like he’s done many times before. Never at this particular desk, but it’s still somehow oddly comforting. Even though she’s not there, he feels the slightest bit closer to her. Plus, it will take Donna’s steely patience to listen to Louis droning on for hours on end.  
  
And as he presses the ‘play’ button, the dictaphone plays a familiar voice. Too familiar.  The room starts to spin as he hears the same conversation aloud that he’s been trying to block from his mind in attempts to quell his anger. After the surprise wears off over hearing his very own voice on Louis’ dictaphone already, Harvey begins to piece together the context. The conversation. The dictaphone. Donna’s desk. _Donna’s desk._ And that’s when the room starts closing in.  


* * *

  
  
  
When Mike returns from a quick trip to his own office, Harvey’s looking much worse for wear.  He’s sitting at Donna’s desk, with a wide stare and a slightly agape mouth. At first, it just seems like the alcohol has finally caught up with him. But he looks almost paralyzed in his seat. Mike can see Harvey trying to swallow frantically, as though his throat has closed up. A closer look at Harvey reveals Harvey’s shaking hands and the look of horror in Harvey’s eyes. _Oh, shit, not again._ Harvey’s not making any noises as he attempts to breathe, which frightens Mike even more. This panic attack is worse than the last one.  
  
“Harvey?! _Harvey!_ Do I need to call an ambulance?” Mike exclaims, fumbling as he pulls his phone from his pocket. The mention of emergency services somewhat breaks Harvey out of his trance. He shakes his head at Mike, before standing up and staggering out if the cubicle into the hallway. His legs feel like jelly, but he can’t tell whether it’s because of the alcohol or his state of mind.  
  
Harvey makes it as fast as is possible to the bathroom, where he pushes his way into a stall and collapses to his knees. Mike is right behind him. He manages to avert his eyes before Harvey vomits. Mike almost wants to do the same, but he closes his eyes and waits for the nausea to pass. If he had finished that last beer, he’d undoubtedly be in the stall right next to Harvey. When he feels stable enough, Mike grabs a few paper towels and hands them to Harvey.  
  
“Are you okay?” It’s such a pitiful question with an obvious answer, but it’s the only thing Mike can think of to say in the moment.  
  
“ _She knows!”_ Harvey shouts back at Mike. “ _I_ was supposed to tell her _!”_ Harvey was _fine,_ he was handling things in his own way. But now Louis has gone and fucked it all to hell. He bangs his fist on the wall in fury. The entire bathroom reverberates with the sound, getting softer and softer until it blends in with the pounding of his head.  
  
“There’s no way I’m going to that goddamn meeting tomorrow.” Harvey growls, his chest still heaving.  Not only does he trust himself to be civil within a half mile of Louis, he can’t face the possibility of seeing Donna. Not like this. It’ll trigger him again for sure. It wasn’t meant to happen this way. But if Louis is going to do Harvey’s jobs for him, then the least Harvey can do is suspend himself before Louis has the chance to humiliate him in front of the senior partners. It can’t be any worse than Harvey’s decision to self-medicate.

There is one call he needs to make tonight. He pulls out his phone, much to Mike’s alarm, and makes the call. As the phone rings, Harvey’s insides churn. The phone is thrown safely to Mike in time for the alcohol in Harvey’s system to make another trip back up his oesophagus. There’s an angry voice that Mike can hear on the other line, and he puts the phone to his ear.  
  
“This is Mike Ross.”  
  
“Mike? This is Harvey’s doctor. What’s going on?!” She doesn’t say the word therapist, but given all that’s happened, Mike’s smart enough to read between the lines.  
  
“I think Harvey wants to make an appointment for tomorrow morning.”


	5. Evaluation

Jessica can tell from the minute that Mike walks in the door that she’s not going to like whatever the hell he has to say.  


“Where is he, Mike?” It’s too much of a coincidence for Mike to be visiting her on such an important morning for Harvey. Especially when Harvey has yet to be seen.  
  
“He’s sick. I’m going to stand in for him at the meeting.” Sometimes Jessica _hates_ being right. Jessica drops her file onto her desk irritably. Some of the papers scatter across the desk, with one sailing off the desk to the floor. Mike and Jessica hold each other’s’ gaze before Mike breaks eye contact to pick up the piece of paper for her.  
  
“You can’t do that.” Between Harvey’s absence and Louis’ eleventh hour attempts to reverse the suspension hearing, her morning isn’t going smoothly. Jessica’s not about to let the newest hotshot tell her how to manage her senior partners.  
  
“Actually, according to the bylaws-” And of _course_ he has back-up. If Jessica weren’t so invested in the outcome of this meeting, she’d be impressed by Mike’s diligence and tenacity.  
  
“I don’t give a shit what the bylaws say, Harvey had better be at that meeting.”  If Jessica lets her guard down for even a _second,_ she’ll find herself with a mutiny on her hands. She’s usually good at extinguishing them, but Mike is the latest on her watchlist. She can’t let the promotion get to his head too quickly.  
  
“Then you’re going to have to cancel the meeting, because he’s not going to make it!” Mike replies loudly. His tone is startling, but there's something about it that Jessica can see is not worth arguing with.  
  
“This better be a goddamn medical emergency.” The sight of Harvey slumped in the bathroom flashes through Mike’s head, and he knows that he needs to stick to his guns.  
  
“Let me put it this way – if Harvey were to turn up, it’d be a health and safety hazard.” Primarily a hazard for Louis’ safety. But also for Harvey’s health. And the health of the firm. And potentially a number of working relationships.  
  
“And you can vouch for this, can you?” Jessica doesn’t yet believe him. And normally, Mike would agree with her scepticism. But Harvey’s in no fit state to come into work, let alone face a stressful suspension hearing.  
  
“I spoke to his doctor last night.” He doesn’t elaborate, and he prays that Jessica trusts him enough to accept this without pressing it any further. Concern crosses Jessica’s face for a second, but it fades as quickly as it appeared. She of all people understands the need for confidentiality when the situation calls for it. But it doesn’t mean Jessica has to be happy about it.  
  
“The rest of the partners will be _thrilled,_ ” she replies dryly.  
  


* * *

 

“I did it! The meeting’s been called off.” Louis pants as he stops to rest at Donna’s desk. His brow is glistening with his triumph. But his face drops when he is met with an unsightly look of contempt from his secretary.  
  
“Would you like a medal?” Donna replies caustically. Louis had been hoping that by morning Donna would have softened, but for some reason she seems even more incensed this morning.  
  
“Come on, Donna. I’m sorry! I stopped the meeting! I’ll even apologise to Harvey in person, if I have to.” It’s a big deal coming from Louis, but it’s hard to forget that this situation is his own fault. By putting it right, he’s doing the absolute bare minimum.  
  
“Why are you even telling me this? You should be in Jessica’s office right now, waiting for Harvey to turn up!” It also removes Louis from sight, as he’s the last person she wants to see.  
  
“Because I wanted to let you know first,” Louis replies meekly.  
  
“What good is that gonna do?!” Donna exclaims, a little more desperately than she would have liked. She immediately feels guilty at Louis’ wounded face, even though it probably serves him right.  
  
“Look, Louis, I’m exhausted, and your chitchat _really_ isn’t helping. Just fix it, will you?” It’s the plea in Donna’s voice that touches Louis the most. It’s his turn to do this for Donna. He gives her a determined nod, and takes off towards Jessica’s office. Louis has been so preoccupied with the meeting this morning that he hasn’t even noticed that Donna hasn’t let go of his dictaphone since she arrived.

 

* * *

 

  
Louis’ efforts are met with derision; neither Jessica nor Mike are overly impressed. Their sentiments match Donna’s  - that such a situation shouldn’t be happening in the first place. Louis doesn’t appreciate being read the riot act when Harvey is ultimately still the one in the wrong. He’s just about to launch his defence and make idle threats when a fourth person breaks the tension.     


“So, what do the preliminary votes say? Are you going to lose your best lawyer for three months?” Harvey swaggers into Jessica’s office, interrupting the heated conversation between the three already present. It’s a legitimate worry of his, but Harvey is experienced at masking his feelings and bluffing his way through a potentially lethal conversation. If he radiates enough confidence about avoiding a suspension, then it might inspire the other partners to feel the same way.  
  
“Harvey, what are you doing here? I thought you _weren’t going to make it_ ,” Mike says meaningfully; Harvey’s surprise appearance has just rendered Mike’s entire conversation with Jessica moot.    
  
“The doc cleared me for duty, and I couldn’t miss my moment of truth,” Harvey replies cheerfully, perching on the edge of a chair. Everyone else has varying levels of confusion on their faces.  Mike is trying to reconcile the Harvey he witnessed last night with the Harvey that is before him. Jessica is obviously looking for evidence of his supposed illness, and Louis is just taken aback. He inches the slightest bit to the left, so that Mike stands between him and Harvey. It’s not as though Louis has anything to worry about; for Harvey to strike out at Louis again (with multiple witnesses) would be suicidal. As tempting as the thought is.     
  
“Why are you so happy?” Louis asks suspiciously. He’s right to be suspicious. There is nothing about the situation which is in Harvey’s favour. But Harvey doesn’t want to give Louis a straight answer. He doesn’t fucking deserve it. Louis had that chance, and completely destroyed it. So instead, he’ll only be getting snippy retorts from Harvey.  
  
“The thought of not having to see your face for three months should make _anyone_ happy.” It would be the one single silver lining in this entire mess. Harvey continues to smile as he watches the comment sink into Louis’ thick skull.  
  
“Louis, why don’t you give Harvey the good news,” Jessica interjects before there’s time for Louis to take offence. _Good news?_ Do ‘good news’ and ‘Louis’ even belong in the same sentence? Louis steps away from Mike, and Harvey patiently waits for this so-called ‘good news’. Harvey hasn’t had a proper laugh in a long time, and Harvey’s looking forward to hearing Louis’ pathetic attempt at cheering Harvey up.  
  
Turns out, even Louis can impress Harvey sometimes.    
  
“The meeting’s been called off. You’re off the hook,” Louis mumbles begrudgingly. It takes most of Harvey’s willpower not to collapse with relief. _Thank fuck._ But he’s not out of the woods yet. All he needs now is to make it out of the office without facing Donna, and the day might turn out okay after all.  
  
“Good. We can get back to normal. But I’m going to take the rest of the day off,” Harvey calls over his shoulder. It’s not ideal, but the weekend will give just enough distance for the dust to settle. It’s a suitable compromise; Jessica knows that it’ll ease the tension in the office a little. Mike, however, is not satisfied with the swift settlement, and he’s quick to follow Harvey out the door.

 

“ _Harvey!”_ Harvey owes a lot to Mike for the night before, but it’s neither the time nor place to discuss it.  
  
“Sorry, Mike, I have to leave.” Harvey doesn’t even look at his friend, deliberately keeping his eyes trained on the hallway ahead of him. He has to keep moving and get the hell out of there before anything else falls apart. Parts of the previous night are still raw in his mind, and he knows that Mike won’t be quick to forget it either.  
  
“Just hold on a second!” Mike reaches out and tugs on Harvey’s sleeve. It halts Harvey in his tracks, and he turns to give Mike a dangerous look.  
  
“What is it, Mike?” Harvey asks impatiently. The hallway is currently empty, but it won’t last long. Mike throws his arms outward in exasperation.  
  
“What the hell was all that?! You expect me to cover for you, and yet you turn up as if nothing happened?!” It’s so much easier to pretend that Harvey doesn’t care about Mike’s anger. And he’s _this_ close to convincing himself that nothing reallyhappened the night before. It’s actually simpler than Harvey thought it would be.

* * *

 

**2:18AM THAT MORNING**

_Simple._ It’s easy. All Harvey has to do is stumble his way to the elevator. Mike’s right there beside him, helping him walk. One step at a time. Right foot…left foot. _Donna…knows._ Harvey freezes as a wave of nausea hits him. His right arm slackens momentarily, and he lets it fall from Mike’s shoulder. Harvey closes his eyes as he tries to remember Dr Agard’s advice.   _Breathe through it. In…and out. In…and out. Donna…knows._  
  
_God-fucking-dammit._ His fists clench, and suddenly he’s swaying violently to the left before Mike catches him and pulls him upright.  
  
“Whoa, whoa! Careful!” Mike’s not exactly at the peak of co-ordination either, and he’s struggling to keep the pair of them balanced.  But it’s only a few more steps to the elevator. That will give them both a minor reprieve. Assuming Harvey doesn’t also succumb to motion sickness during the 50 floor descent. By some miracle, they both make it to the elevator without any further mishaps. Harvey leans against the wall as Mike pushes the down button.  
  
“We made it,” Mike sighs. “You okay?” Harvey nods wearily. _Easy._ _One step in front of the other._  
  
*******  
It’s the last obstacle of the night, and Mike is eager to get home.  
  
“Where are your keys, Harvey?” It’s a simple question, but it’s one that’s proving a little difficult for Harvey to answer. He lifts a heavy hand to his inner jacket pocket, pawing at the material. There’s a distinct lack of keys to be found. That’s odd. Maybe he needs to look harder. Harvey clumsily removes his jacket so he can confirm their disappearance. Where else would he keep his keys? While he’s grappling with the mental conundrum, Mike is reaching the limit of his patience. He has already received a call from Rachel when he was trying to help Harvey stand up from his semi-collapsed state in the bathroom.    
  
“Are you serious? Do you have a spare key? Should I call Donna?” Donna is the one person that Mike can think of that would be able (and willing) to help at this hour.  
  
“No, Donna can’t pick locks,” Harvey slurs, extending an arm in front of Mike in protest. But the threat of getting Donna more involved spurs him on to find his keys, and he starts checking his pant pockets as quickly as his inebriation will allow. Thankfully for the both of them, Harvey manages to produce the most beautiful set of keys that Mike has ever laid eyes on. With a crafty swipe, Mike takes the keys from Harvey’s hands to prevent another agonising few minutes in the hallway.  
  
“Oh thank God,” Mike moans as the door opens. Harvey narrowly avoids faceplanting on the floor as he lurches inside. The floor would be a gracious and supportive companion to Harvey’s current state of mind. If it weren’t for the height of his apartment, the floor would perfectly illustrate rock-bottom. At least Harvey can’t trip up when he has already fallen.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is essentially part one of two. The second part is almost finished, and I hope to have it up waaaaaaaaaaay quicker than my some previous updates have been! Thanks to all those who have read and reviewed so far!


	6. Recollection

****_3:53AM THAT MORNING_  
  
Donna finds herself suddenly awake at an obscene hour of the morning. Particularly obscene, because she makes a habit of getting up earlier than most people, usually long before sunrise.  But currently it’s still what reasonable people would call night-time.

Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing. Being awake means that she can distract herself from the thoughts that have plagued her sleep. The recording that Louis made of Harvey has seared itself into her memory, her _psyche._ There’s very few significant events that have impacted her thoughts in this way. It doesn’t make for a productive sleep cycle. It’s so typical of Harvey, disrupting her sleep long after she stops working for him. _It’s not his fault. Yes it is. No, it’s…stop._ She can’t ponder this now. It’s too early to start playing the blame game. That can wait until daylight.  
  
It takes her several seconds of orienting herself before she realises that she’s gripping her phone tightly in her hand. She squints at it as it confirms the ungodly hour. _Did that all really happen?_ As she lies back down to sleep, Donna lets the thought float away. No doubt the morning will have the answers. 

* * *

  
**9:33AM**  
  
“I bet you can’t even remember what happened last night,” Mike accuses, shaking his head. It’s not Harvey’s fault that Mike is burdened with remembering every single little detail. Anyway, he remembers enough. More than enough. Too much. His head still gives a cursory throb now and then, but it’s starting to lessen very slightly. An argument in the hallway might be quick to exacerbate the headache, however.    
  
“Let’s go to my office,” Harvey urges, anxious to get out of the very open hallway. If he can’t leave straight away, he can hide out there and let Gretchen deal with any unwanted visitors. With an annoyed reluctance, Mike holds off on his tirade until they’re behind closed doors.  
  
The first thing that Harvey does once they’re both safely inside his office is offer Mike a beverage to try and defuse the situation.  
  
“You look like you could use some water,” Harvey generously holds out a glass. When Mike makes no move to accept it, Harvey gulps down the water and practically collapses onto his couch with a sigh.  
  
“Oh, so you _do_ feel like shit,” Harvey doesn’t appreciate the high level of schadenfreude in Mike’s voice.  Harvey shoots Mike a dark glance, which confirms Mike’s assertion. Mike shakes his head incredulously, but abstains from giving the lecture that Harvey knows he’s so willing to give.  


“Did you talk to your doctor?” Mike asks in that same concerned voice that sends prickles down Harvey’s spine. Harvey decides that he'd rather take the lecture.   
  
“She’s the reason I’m here,” Harvey replies begrudgingly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**_6:54AM THAT MORNING_ **

 

Harvey’s feet drag along the sidewalk; it’s as much from his unwillingness to be there as it is from his exhaustion. He hasn’t slept all night. Or at least, he isn’t anywhere close to refreshed. And he’s still a little drunk, too. It takes the edge off of him caring quite so much. But it does mean that he’s less equipped to fight off the unwanted thoughts that have been swimming around his head all night.  
  
Harvey doesn’t notice Dr Agard recoil slightly when he steps into the office. He spent the better part of an hour in the shower at about 3am, but the alcohol has yet to completely leave his system. The nightcap he had after Mike left probably made things worse. Maybe it’ll fade soon, and maybe it won’t. It doesn’t matter at this point. His sobriety is not going to make a single ounce of difference. There’s no way in hell that he’ll be going into work today.  
  
“I hope you didn’t drive here!” Her scolding tone grates on Harvey’s nerves. Does she think he’s a _complete_ moron? There’s already enough people who think that already. Himself, Jack Soloff, Jessica, the rest of the partners…probably Donna now too…  
  
“Of courseI didn’t!” he snaps; it’s a little too loud, a little _too_ pained. Harvey’s regretting his own words as they make an unwelcome rattle through his head. That was a mistake. Calm, quiet words are the way to proceed this morning. Or preferably no words at all.   
  
“Sorry,” he mumbles quickly. Harvey doesn’t want to get on her bad side, especially today. She’s probably about to add ‘ _alcoholic’_ to his list of mental flaws.  He wouldn’t blame her.  
  
“I’m only doing this once, Harvey,” Dr Agard warns him as she shuts the door behind her. Harvey silently agrees. He has absolutely no intention of repeating the night ever again.  
  
“Does that mean I’m graduating?” Harvey tries to joke. The joke’s funny because he’s probably the one patient of hers that’s worse off than when he started. Side-splittingly hilarious.  
  
“ _No,_ ” Dr Agard is quick to crush his hopes, “I meant that this is your one and only opportunity to call me in the middle of the night whilst drunk where I will pick up. Do it again, and you’ll have to wait until morning.”  
  
“I’m sorry. It was an emergency,” Harvey explains as he slowly removes his jacket. His fingers are fumbling with the buttons. There are a number of perfectly good physical reasons why he’s having difficulty, but he knows that Dr Agard will have a psychological explanation at the ready. He feels her watching him, but he pointedly averts her gaze until he’s finished. But when he looks up, Dr Agard is looking more worried than he expected.  
  
“What happened?” This is pathetic. Harvey can’t believe the situation he’s in. He should just walk out the door in shame. There’s little point being here anymore. It’s obviously not helping. Harvey doesn’t believe in wasting time, and yet here he is, having taken precious hours from someone that he doesn’t even want to see in the first place. But as much as he thinks it would benefit them both by leaving, he’s just sat down and his body isn’t obeying his will.  
  
“Donna knows.” The two words have been running through his head all night incessantly. _Donna knows. She. Knows._ He hasn’t been able to think of anything else. Whatever Dr Agard had been anticipating, this wasn’t it.  
  
“You told her?!” she asks incredulously. The happiness in her voice twists Harvey’s stomach. It was a simple goddamn task, and he couldn’t even do it.  
  
“No,” he replies hoarsely, shaking his head.  “Louis beat me to the punch by recording our conversation about it.” It sounds so pitiful when he phrases it that way. Harvey _knows_ that Louis’ intention wasn’t to show Donna, but had something to do with his suspension hearing. Donna even warned Harvey about the possibility. And yet, Louis has still managed to steal the chance from under his nose.     
  
“Oh.” One word that’s filled with _everything;_ surprise, comprehension, disappointment and sympathy. The sympathy is the worst. He’s had that awful look from Mike twice now, and he _hates_ it. It’s more than enough for a lifetime. The one tiny consolation from this situation is that Dr Agard might finally understand exactly how infuriating Louis is. Especially if Louis shows the partners the recording.  
  
His mind is so busy distressing over the hypothetical scenario of an entire room pitying him that Harvey doesn’t notice that Dr Agard has gone over to her desk to grab something from her top drawer. It isn’t until she hands him a piece of paper that he breaks out of his daydream.  
  
“What’s this?” His eyes can see the somewhat blurry words on the paper, but he can’t quite decipher her handwriting. Yes, it’s the fault of her penmanship. Nothing to do with the self-inflicted headache or his double vision.  
  
“It’s a prescription to stop you having any more panic attacks.” That’s when he knows it’s bad. She’s prescribing him medication when he hasn’t even asked for it.  
  
“It wasn’t a panic attack. I had a migraine,” The ailment fits most of his symptoms, but Harvey doesn’t even know why he’s lying. There’s no point when she can’t possibly think any less of him right now. It might not quite be rock-bottom, but it’s pretty damn close. He’s just so used to concealing the truth that it has become second nature.  
  
Dr Agard has just settled back into her seat. Her hand obscures the lower half of her face, but her tired eyes can still see through his bullshit. She watches him for several seconds, not bothering to respond. It’s clear that she doesn’t even have enough energy to call him out.  
  
“I need a coffee,” she announces. “Would you like one?” It’s too early in the morning for mind tricks. His faint guilt for having her start so early is momentarily overshadowed by the knowledge that she has her weaknesses too. He nods gratefully. If Dr Agard is about to become more alert, then it’s only fair that they stay on even footing.  
  
When she returns from her kitchen with coffee, Harvey can already notice the difference. Dr Agard already seems better composed and Harvey instinctively perks himself up. He hasn’t even touched the coffee himself, but he’s sensing that things are about to turn. She probably has another ridiculous task up her sleeve for him to complete. He’ll probably fail that one, too.  Harvey picks up his cup and waits for the session to _actually_ begin. Dr Agard doesn’t disappoint.  


“I _knew_ this would happen. This is actually a good outcome. Your lack of action would only continue to hurt you further,” Even though Harvey was expecting her to say something designed to aggravate him, he still can’t help but take offence. Is she serious?! Harvey finds it difficult to see which part of the past twenty four hours is meant to be a ‘good outcome’. About as good as the outcome he’s facing at work later that day.  
  
“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” His co-worker stabbed him in the back, for fuck’s sake! Maybe the pity isn’t that bad after all. Just a little bit.  
  
“If you had told Donna already, then Louis’ actions wouldn’t have hurt you as much.” _That’s not true._ If she could see what goes on at Pearson Specter Litt on a day to day basis, Dr Agard would be able to actually understand how damaging Louis’ actions can be. And often are.  
  
“That sounds a lot like victim-blaming,” he accuses.  
  
“Oh, so you’re a victim now?” Her feigned confusion doesn’t fool him. She won’t trick him into admitting anything remotely close to that. But at the same time, Dr Agard needs to get a grasp on the extent of the situation. She’s not taking it as seriously as he’d hoped.  
  
“Do you not understand what he _did_?!”  He was absolutely delusional to think that this would help.  
  
  
“Harvey, this isn’t about what Louis did to you, this is about what you’re going to do next.”  
  
“He took something that was supposed to be my secret, and recorded it behind my back! I _was_ going to tell her,” Harvey insists, fully aware that he sounds like a sullen teenager.  
  
“I’ve heard that one before,” Dr Agard remarks from behind her mug. “And I thought you’d prefer an action plan over talking about your feelings.” He doesn’t want either. Harvey doesn’t need an action plan because it’s not necessary, and why would he want to talk about his feelings when she’s going to prod him and make him feel worse?  
  
“I’m not going into work today,” Harvey says stubbornly. Fuck that noise.  
  
“I’m not writing you a note!” she shakes her head at the absurdity of such an idea. All Harvey can do is glare at her indignantly. What was the point of even coming to the appointment if he’s going to be forced to go into work? Harvey turns his head away indignantly.  
  
“Why are you so eager to skip work today? What are you most concerned about?” She _knows_ the answer to that question. Dr Agard takes far too much joy in asking these questions. It’s probably payback for the emergency session.  
  
“I’m concerned that you’re so focused on getting me to go to this hearing and talk to Donna that you’re no longer looking out for my best interests.” Dr Agard’s eyes start twinkling.  She has barely mentioned Donna this morning, and he inwardly kicks himself for bringing her up.    
  
“Is that how you feel?” She’s not even trying to hide her laughter.  
  
“It’s very unprofessional.”  
  
“I think you’re being even more unprofessional by using a hangover as an excuse to avoid work.” Hah. This is hardly the most unprofessional move Harvey’s ever made. For God’s sake, she already knows about him attacking Louis. And it’s not an _excuse._ It’s not like he deliberately intoxicated himself to avoid going into work. At least, it’s not the _main_ reason.  And it _is_ a legitimate reason. He’s worked his ass off over the years to be granted such a privilege.  
  
  
“Well, I can’t go into work like this!” For all the times that Harvey chastised Mike for arriving late and possibly under the influence of pot, Harvey turning up visibly affected by alcohol is not going to go down well. Not only does it make him a hypocrite, but everyone’s likely to think that he doesn’t care about his job, or (even worse) he cares _too much_ about what he faces.  
  
“I thought that was why you were here – to get the medication so you could safely GO to the meeting and be the person I know you normally are.” Does she think that flattery will work? Because it won’t. Obviously, if he did decide to go into work, he’d kick ass. But why should he? It’s not like it’ll change anything. Dr Agard holds out her hand, gesturing to the prescription that Harvey has placed beside him. Slightly confused, Harvey hands it back to her and she makes a few additions.  


-        _Gatorade_

-        _Two aspirin_

-        _A nap_

-        _A good bluff_

“Is this some kind of joke?”    
  
“No, Harvey. The last four are optional, but I would highly recommend them. Get the medicine filled out, go to your meeting, and then you can go home afterwards. I doubt Jessica will deny you an afternoon off.” Dr Agard smiles at him, and nods at the door. She’s kicking him out! Harvey figures it was about time that she ended one their sessions on _her_ terms. But he’s not going to let that show. He makes a big show out of standing up, taking every single opportunity to throw his therapist dirty looks. He’s only doing this as a favour to her.    
  
“And what happens if it goes badly?” He’s asking in a purely hypothetical capacity, of course. It’s important that he mentally prepares himself for all possibilities. Approaching all the angles. Even though it’s definitely not likely. Probably.  
  
“Then I’ll help you look for another job.” Least sympathetic therapist? She’s definitely a close contender.  
  
“What about Donna?” He’s desperate. It’s the biggest olive branch he’s ever voluntarily offered to her. Harvey’s willing to bare his soul in order to stall. Even answer the questions he doesn’t know the answers too. He’ll make something up.  
  
  
“We can talk about Donna next week. One thing at a time.” But she doesn’t fall for it. Harvey’s in no position to argue much further. But Dr Agard’s wording that makes him a little uncomfortable. It’s like she can read his mind. That privilege is reserved for someone else. It might actually a good thing he’s leaving for work - it stops Dr Agard from getting too far into his head.  
  
Harvey stands at the door, hesitating.  
  
“Good luck,” Dr Agard says to him, a little more kindly. Harvey tenses up for a second. Her words mean no malice, but what he’s hearing is ‘ _you’re screwed’._ Well, fuck that. He’s Harvey goddamn Specter, he’s not going to let himself be walked over. Confidence is key, and Louis doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing he has any impact on Harvey’s mood. Harvey turns back to Dr Agard, having swapped all of his visible worry for self-assurance. He’ll even bluff his way through a hangover. Because he can.  
  
“I don’t need luck.” _I need a fucking miracle._  
  


* * *

  
  
**1:19PM**  
  
  
“You look terrible,” A voice from above him makes Harvey open his eyes. _Fuck_ , he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Not here, at least. Wherever here is. His grogginess is slowing down his ability to place himself anywhere. Not just physically, either.  

“Thanks,” Harvey mumbles, slowly pulling himself upright. He blinks a few times until the room comes into focus.  He can see clearly, but he’s still trying to orient himself. _Table…desk…chair…_ okay, he’s still in his office. Harvey can’t remember settling down on his couch, but he figures that he should count his blessings that nothing seems to be broken or damaged. Except perhaps his liver.  
  
  
“Donna.” Harvey’s dreaming.  That would explain everything. Him being in his office, the seemingly floaty sensation he’s currently experiencing, and Donna standing before him. More specifically, Donna standing before him with the slightest hint of a smile on her face. She holds out his glass to him, filled with water. Harvey accepts it and takes a slightly bewildered sip. He still doesn’t understand quite what’s going on. The relief he still has from not being suspended feels somewhat unreal. He had been building up to such a stressful morning that the anti-climax came out of left field. No wonder he fell asleep.  
  
  
“Rough night, huh?” Donna asks sympathetically, sitting down on the other edge of his couch. Does she mean the suspension hearing, the hangover or the unwelcome discovery? It can’t be the last one. Unless it was obvious from where he left the dictaphone. Harvey tries to think back, but his head starts pounding. He’s done enough remembering for the day. Starting the morning with a therapy session was a poor move. If he’d just waited, he could have called in sick and he’d probably be slumbering peacefully right now.  
  
“I’ve had quieter,” Harvey admits. He doesn’t go quite so far as to elaborate on the complete disaster that he has barely pulled through. The details aren’t pretty, and Donna doesn’t need to know any more than she already does.  
  
“So have I,” Donna tells him. _Ugh._ Harvey hopes that doesn’t mean what he thinks it does. Yeah, they’re friends (albeit very reserved friends) but he’s not up to pretending that he’s happy about her love life. Of course, Donna doesn’t need to know that he’s less than pleased about this Mitchell person. No doubt Dr Agard will want to give her perspective on the matter first.  
  
“Did you have a date last night?” If he could bluff through the morning, then he sure as hell can muster up some fake happiness. But Harvey’s burnt through the last of his energy for fake happiness, and it comes out in a dull monotone. At least that’s better than sounding jealous.  
  
“No…” She leans her head on the top of the couch and closes her eyes. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Donna’s not meant to be this comfortable in his office. This isn’t _their_ domain anymore, it’s _his._ There’s several seconds where Harvey is seriously considering asking Donna to leave, for no other reason than his own pettiness. _Go nap in Mitchell’s office – oh wait, he’s probably some washed up college professor nobody._ Jesus, he’s cranky. Harvey’s thankful that he’s tired enough that he’s not vocalising these thoughts out loud.  
  
Why _shouldn’t_ Donna feel this comfortable here? A great deal of her life has been spent a few yards away. It’s practically her second home. _Because it’s not fair._ Harvey knows what she knows, he knows that the truth of his pain has been spilled to her, in one of the worst ways possible. And yet _she’s falling asleep in his goddamn office._ How dare she. Donna knows, but does she really _know_?  
  
_Of course she fucking doesn’t, because you don’t tell her anything._ Harvey’s _tried_ to tell her. Donna blew him off. _This isn’t her fault._ Who was it who left? _You forced her to._ She didn’t have to-  
  
“ _What are you doing here_?” Harvey cuts off his inner monologue. His voice startles her; it came out louder than he had intentioned.  
  
“I _came_ here to see if you were okay,” Donna snaps at him.  
  
“I’m fine,” he says in a clipped voice. Harvey’s not even meant to be at work right now, he’s not about to open the can of worms that will no doubt ruin everything.  
  
“Well, I’m not,” Donna replies matter-of-factly. Harvey’s heart skips a beat. _Not now. Please._ He’s too tired. Harvey’s not even sure that he’ll remember this conversation later. His memory is close to short-circuiting from last night’s revelation. All he wants to do avoid conflict.  
  
“I’m sorry.” A non-committal answer that is easy to be interpreted as the recipient wishes. Donna smiles wanly. She’s heard his meaningless attempts at apology a million times before. _Go on then, call me out._ What’s another lecture if he’s going to forget it soon anyway?  
  
  
“And _I’m_ sorry I didn’t respond immediately. It was just a little too much at that time.” _That’s a weird way of phrasing everything_. But Harvey will take this unexpected apology. Even though he doesn’t exactly understand what she’s apologising for. Then again, he barely knows which way is up at the moment, so it’ll probably make more sense later on. Thinking about it too much makes Harvey’s head hurt.  
  
“That’s okay.” Harvey manages to smile at her. The forgiveness feels strangely good. Maybe he should try it more often. Maybe even with Louis? _No, that’s going too far._ But these two words have clearly made an impact. Looking happier and more at peace than he’s seen today, Donna vacates his couch. But before she leaves, she has one more suggestion.  
  
“We should talk this weekend. We need to discuss your message. How about dinner Sunday?”  
  
“Sure.” His ‘ _message’_?  Talk about a euphemism. At least by Sunday he’ll either have found some non-existent willpower to have such a conversation, or better yet, a reason to bail. Today is dedicated to the path of least resistance. It’s easier to say yes today. _One word at a time._  
  
  
******  
  
There’s a new word stuck in his mind on his journey home. _Message._ Why would she call it a message of all things? Does she think that he _meant_ for her to find out? That he knew Louis would record him? Because he sure as hell didn’t.  
  
It doesn’t make sense.  
  
“ _Didn’t respond immediately.”_ He’s overthinking things. There are perfectly logical explanations for what Donna said. This is the sleep deprivation talking. And yet…  
  
Harvey pulls out his phone and starts looking through the call history. His call to Dr Agard is fifth on the list; he has made four calls since then. Three of them look to be cab companies. But there’s one recent call that’s of major concern. At 3:49am, a call was made to ‘Donna Paulsen’. A call which he has no recollection of. _Message. YOUR message. We need to discuss your message._ Mike warned him against drunk dialling. _YOUR MESSAGE._  
  
_Shit, this can't be good._


	7. Renunciation

There’s been too many of Harvey’s words swimming around Donna’s mind in the past couple of days. She doesn’t want to think about the number of times she listened to the recording on Louis’ dictaphone, but her thumb still has a little indentation from pressing the play button too many times. Each time she listened, a little piece of her heart shattered. Heartbreak is becoming an uncomfortably common theme in her life. Donna of course, _had_ to replay the voice message that Harvey subsequently left her. The first time she listened she was barely conscious, so it was to ensure that she didn’t just dream it.  
  
The second time she listened, it was because he was barely comprehensible and she needed to make sure that she caught every word correctly. Drunk barely even begins to cover it. How Harvey expected anyone to understand what he was saying is beyond her. Or maybe he knew that she would be the one able to understand.  
  
The third time was needed to make sure that she was interpreting the right tone. She’s a little out of practice with picking up on Harvey’s subtext, and it would be disastrous if she were to get the wrong idea.  
  
The fourth…  
  
She has lost count again.  Donna’s at least pleased with herself that she snapped herself out of hopelessness. After an indeterminate number of replays, she decided that instead of listening to a message that she’s already seared into her memory, she’d get answers from the source himself. Donna can’t read _too_ much into this message. It’s not exactly his modus operandi. And she’s already been hurt too much lately. 

* * *

 

2 Years Ago

Harvey Specter was angry. It wasn’t the yelling and slamming doors kind of angry that his childhood had gotten him accustomed to. Nor was it the roaring anger that lead to balled fists and black eyes.  It was the throat constricting, nauseating anger that left a bitter taste in his mouth. It wasn’t as though he had a legitimate _reason_ to be angry. Jessica had shown him his future, and it was everything he had been working towards in his professional career. Becoming a named partner was meant to be a cause for celebration. But instead, he was sitting in his office in a state of self-loathing and complete indignation. Jessica had gifted him this as a supposed gesture of goodwill, but he didn’t trust her, he didn’t trust in himself, and worst of all – the one person he trusted the most was currently absent, probably too busy being seduced by his inferior British counterpart.   
  
They had been preparing for this day for _years._ Not that they frequently talked about this specific achievement, but every single case, every single promotion, every step forward had always seemed like practice for one of the biggest possible goals for any lawyer – named partner. Harvey and Donna were a team and Donna had played an instrumental part in each of his successes. Except this one. Which was partly why he was feeling so horrible. This wasn’t an achievement that he and Donna had tackled head on with hard work and a dash (okay, more like a lot) of pure brilliance. This achievement he had tried to steal with back alley deals and hollow promises. Only for it to then to be handed to him by the same person he was trying to bring down. Donna had nothing to do with this, and he knew she wouldn’t approve.

 

Nonetheless, Donna would want to know the second he found out. But it had been two hours since Jessica had given him the news, and Harvey was still staring out to Donna’s empty desk. There was little motivating him to pick up his phone and call her with the news. Not even the thought of taking a cheap jab at Stephen was enough temptation. He hated everything that was separating them from what was meant to be a monumental occasion. It wasn’t meant to be like this.  


Harvey was now holding his phone in his right hand; it felt as though it weighed a hundred pounds. He was trying to figure out the most likely scenario to ensue if he decided to call Donna.  
  
“ _You’ve reached Donna Paulsen. Please leave a message after the tone, and I’ll get back to you.”_ Fuck that. If he had to leave a message, it would be inextricable proof that that night – one of the nights he needed her the most - she had put him second. Just as he had done to her.

* * *

 

 

12 Years Ago

  
Donna Paulsen loved sticky notes. It was her preferred method of annotation, and it was lucky that she worked in a profession that involved stacks and stacks of paperwork. But it wasn’t just the paperwork that she used sticky notes for. His computer screen was covered in notifications about appointments and other general bits of information. Donna would, of course, always deliver the information in person, but the sticky notes were an extra piece of written back up. Plus, his memory could be a bit poor when he was neck deep in complicated cases, so they could be a useful point of reference.  
  
It also helped that she made her notes entertaining. In between all the work related stuff, Donna would add additional comments that served no purpose than to entertain him. She would hide those sticky notes amongst the others. No-one could tell from a glance that Harvey was engrossed in a detailed but humorous description of one of the ADA’s new outfits when he was supposed to be working. Donna took great joy in figuring out what his reactions were to her lively annotations, and would tailor her notes to suit. Her accuracy rate was extremely high.  
  
‘ _Your grammar is appalling in this paragraph. Where the hell did you go to school??’  
  
_ Harvey let out a small huff at her comment. The grammar wasn’t _that_ bad. Sure, he may have written it in between his sixth cup of coffee and the Yankees replay, but he’d put a fair bit of work into constructing the report.  
  
‘ _Don’t make that face. You know I’m right.’_

Harvey looked through the open door to Donna’s desk. She had stepped out to file some documents. When he was sure that Donna wouldn’t see him, he chuckled quietly.  
  
“Dammit, Donna,” he murmured. How did she do that? It was as though she had written the notes right there and then, basing them on his reactions. That she already knew what his reactions would be entered the realm of extraordinary. But then again, she was never _ordinary._  
  
Donna returned to her desk within a few minutes, and stepped into Harvey’s office with a coffee for him. She saw the open folder on his desk and smirked.  
  
“You made the face, didn’t you.” Harvey wanted to deny it, but she was great at telling when he was lying. In response, he made the huffy face again. It broke when he couldn’t stop himself from grinning, and she matched his smile. This couldn’t be normal. She had only been working for him for a couple of weeks. Donna couldn’t possibly be this attentive and clued up on his emotional nuances unless she was into him…right? 

xxxxxxxxxx

There was one late evening when Donna had already gone home and Harvey was surrounding with case files. But he wasn’t paying attention to any part of his workload. Instead, he was staring at a pad of sticky notes, pen in hand, poised and waiting. Harvey wanted to write ‘ _Let’s get dinner tomorrow night’_ and stick it on her computer screen to find the next morning. And if she said no, then he could play it off as a casual dinner, or maybe him treating her for being such a good employee. What was he, scared? It was just a note. Without another second of thought he started writing on the sticky note. But when he looked at the finished product he was horrified.  
  
‘ _Do you want to go out sometime?’_ And had he – had he drawn a _happy face_ at the end of the note?! Talk about pathetic. Harvey immediately tore the note off the pad and crumpled it up in his hands, throwing it into a far corner of the room. It bounced off the wall and fell to the ground next to a filing cabinet. This was a ridiculous idea. If he wanted to ask her out, he would do it in person. That way, there’d be no room for ambiguity, and none of this nonsense of spending an entire night wondering what her response would be. He was far better in person when he could turn on his charm. Leaving a handwritten note was definitely not his style. Harvey had a reputation to uphold. He didn’t want rumours to start around the office. At least, no more rumours than were already circulating about the two.

 

The next morning, Donna gave him a strange smile as if she _knew_ what he’d been pondering over the night before. But when he entered the office, the note was still lying crumpled up on the ground.

 

* * *

 

Now

  


It is with a clumsy hand that he opens the door to his apartment, wondering how to proceed. Harvey Specter has rarely left messages for Donna in the past. So why now? What part of his sorry brain decided to blow a fuse and call Donna at 4am? There’s only so much he can blame on alcohol. It worries him that he has no memory of the event. Maybe his brain blocked out the memory as a form of protection. No doubt he would have said something ridiculous in his drunken state. Not to mention how emotional he was.   
  
But surely, if he was that drunk, then his message would be unintelligible anyway? _If Donna couldn’t understand, she wouldn’t bother responding._ He’s fighting his overwhelming urge to sleep, but he won’t be able to rest until he knows exactly how he fucked up. Harvey’s first instinct is to turn around and go straight back into the office. Or at least figure out how to get a better grasp on the situation without having to ask Donna. _This is starting to sound too familiar._

Harvey’s using the same weapon that he shot himself in the foot with when he makes a call to the office.

“Mike, do you know how to access people’s voicemail?” He knows it’s a stupid idea as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“You want me to _hack someone’s voicemail_?” Mike doesn’t take well to the implication that he can hack phones. Notably, he doesn’t deny the claim. But this is a step too far. Harvey has enough regrets to tide him over for a lifetime. He can deal with potentially facing assault charges and getting sued by Louis. But hacking Donna’s phone would enter the realm of the unthinkable. 

“You know what? Forget about it.”  
  
“Harvey, what the hell is going on?” There’s absolutely no need to drag Mike into this. He’s better off blissfully ignorant of yet another of Harvey’s drunken fuck-ups. Mike has already been exposed to too much.  At least one of them should be allowed to sleep easily tonight.   
  
“This never happened,” Harvey replies warningly before hanging up. He has half a mind to drop his phone to the floor and let it shatter into thousands of pieces. But knowing his luck, all that would happen is the screen cracking with an unspectacular clunk on the floor. _This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a crack._ Harvey’s cracked enough as it is. 

* * *

  
  
  
Instead of going out for dinner, the plan of action is to eat at Harvey’s apartment. He’s offered to cook, but the offer was quickly rejected in favour of them making a meal together. The decision was reached through a few quick and impersonal text messages they exchanged on the Saturday. Short sentences, very little flair. Nothing like the sticky notes she used to add to liven up his work. It’s another reminder that they’re not the same people anymore. The way in which Donna settled into his couch when they last spoke was an anomaly. The walls are back up between them. But the problem is, Donna’s already seen his biggest weaknesses. It’s not going to be a relaxing evening of two friends catching up. There’s an agenda that will be difficult and ugly to tackle. And Harvey’s far less prepared than he’d like to be. It’s much easier to defend oneself when you know what the offence is bringing.  
  
  
_For God’s sake, it’s just dinner._

Except it was never _just_ dinner. Sometimes it was tactical and strategic. Meeting with certain allies, secret reconnaissance on the opposition who would be sitting just a few tables over. A shared smirk, and Donna’s whispered requests to the waiter. The way she’d effortlessly sweep herself up to lure the enemy into a false sense of security before Harvey would join her to deliver the fatal blow to their case. Mike was always a little too gung-ho to possess the same subtle manner that Donna could embody.  
  
Other times, their dinners were a celebration. An anniversary or a milestone. ” _Just one more glass!”_ Harvey rolling his eyes at Donna’s insistence of dessert. Any grandiose, soppy statements cut off before they even started with a simple “ _I know,”_ or “ _Don’t mention it.”_ Because they didn’t need to mention it. Even bigger smiles. Knowing looks. The softest, slightest ‘accidental’ brush of their feet under the table.  
  
Sometimes, it was even necessary. A timely delivery of Harvey’s favourite take-out, just when he needed it the most. Refuelling after a tough day in court. Long hours stretching into the morning, accompanied by coffee and determination. “ _Coffee’s made from beans. It’s practically a vegetable.”_ Topped off with their can-opener ritual for good luck.    
  
Harvey’s never discussed this part of his relationship with Donna in his sessions with Dr Agard. It’s not something he can explain by himself.  Hell, it’s not even something he can really explain _to_ himself. It’s just how they are. How they _were_. He could tell Dr Agard about the dream, because it’s exactly the sort of thing he knows therapists eat right up. But he wants to keep this part of his past close.  Not everything needs to be psycho-analysed. She has plenty of fodder already. Harvey’s hoping that there will be little to discuss about the evening at his next session.   
  
  
 So how will this dinner play out? Hopefully according to plan. There are three objectives Harvey hopes to achieve – no, that he _will_ achieve. _1) That goddamn message._ High priority. Whatever it was, it prompted Donna to even call for such a meeting in the first place. A small part of Harvey is also curious as to what he would have said in a state that his brain can’t even bring itself to remember.  
  
Number 2 is to throw down the therapy gauntlet. Theoretically this one shouldn’t be difficult. Donna already knows, so it’s just a matter of mentioning it casually. Affirm that what she knows is correct. Avoid the topic of Louis if possible. Unless, of course, it involves insulting him. This doesn’t have to be a big deal. Of course, that’s easy enough to say. He’s unsure how she’ll react. Harvey has put so much time and energy into avoiding telling Donna about his therapy sessions that it’s going to be difficult to change his habits. It doesn’t help that the alternative is far more tempting – just letting her know without ever bringing it up. They’re both very well practiced at this. _That’s why you’ve got to tell her._  
  
  
The third one is simple (and perhaps the most difficult): _Just fucking keep it together._  
  
  
It’s all Harvey needs to do tonight. If he tackles the therapy taboo and gets to the root of the message mystery, they can talk about it maturely and then get on with their lives as quickly as possible. There’s little point in wallowing in misery for an entire evening. There’s even less point in being anxious when he’s totally in control.   
  
That’s what he’s trying to tell himself, anyway. Harvey’s known Donna for over a decade, but here he is, clawing at freedom from the tie that is squeezing his throat. It’s not a panic attack. The pills that Dr Agard so graciously prescribed him are making sure of that. He fudged his dosage times slightly so that he could take his latest pill with maximum effect for the evening. Another one of his biggest goals is to avoid anything that resembles the night he had the previous Thursday. It’s only nerves. His tie isn’t trying to kill him. Harvey’s still in control. Nevertheless, he discards his tie on his bed just in time for Donna to knock at his door. His heart flutters. It’s killing Harvey that he can barely tell the difference between regular nerves and genuine panic nowadays.    
  
_It’s just dinner. And for God’s sake – it’s just Donna._ Harvey swaps his nerves for a smile as he goes to open the door. He is greeted by five feet and eight inches of food-filled paper bags. Somewhere amongst the paper bags is what Harvey assumes to be Donna. He doesn’t have to give her a formal invitation – she’s already squeezing past him, the bags nearly toppling over in her arms.  
  
“I do have food here, you know,” Harvey’s smile becomes genuine as he follows her into the kitchen.  
  
“Have you started _using_ your fridge for more than just beer?” Donna heaves the bags onto the bench and starts unloading the smorgasbord of delicacies that she’s brought. That’s Donna. Always prepared.  It’s been a while since Donna was last in his kitchen, but she still knows exactly where everything lives. Just as she’s still comfortable in Harvey’s office, his kitchen is almost second nature to her. Within three minutes of Donna’s arrival, Harvey finds himself with a carrot in one hand and a peeler in the other. Donna’s eagerness to dive into their dinner preparation has Harvey a little perplexed.  
  
“I’ve had a busy day. Haven’t had a chance to eat,” Donna explains as she picks up a very sharp knife and starts hacking indiscriminately at an onion. She seems determined to engage her idle hands. Harvey’s mind drifts back to their previous conversation on Friday, and it occurs to him for the first time that there’s something going on with her. _No fucking shit, Sherlock._ Something that _doesn’t_ involve Harvey.  
  
“Isn’t Mitchell worried that you’re having dinner with another man?” Harvey jokes a little uncertainly. Maybe they’re fighting. If they are, then he’s more than happy to send a few snide comments in Mitchell’s direction. He’s got a whole bunch of them at the ready. Anything to pull focus away from the spiralling mental fog Harvey’s been clouded with for the past several months.  
  
“Oh, we’re not together anymore,” Donna says lightly. Almost too lightly. As though she’s afraid that if she gives her voice any more weight, her proper feelings will sink her. He still remembers the look on her face when she found out all the horrible things that Stephen Huntley had done.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“He’s married,” Donna says, her mouth twisting sourly. It’s not the answer Harvey was expecting, and it throws him off.  
  
“And you didn’t _know_?!” His voice is louder than he intended. It’s his misguided anger making an appearance. Harvey’s not angry at _her,_ but for God’s sake, Donna knows about the most humiliating and private secret Harvey’s keeping - and yet her own boyfriend could withhold this from her?!  
  
“Shit, I’m sorry, Donna,” he mumbles, realising how he must have sounded.  
  
“He told me he was separated,” Donna says softly. She lifts a forearm to rid her face of the onion tears. When she returns to her slicing, she continues with very deliberate intervals in an attempt to hide her trembling hands. Harvey’s never seen her like this before. Did his outburst make her nervous? A similar nervousness that had Harvey nearly choking earlier on? Harvey takes several seconds to draw in her appearance. He had almost forgotten about the faintest of freckles that are sprinkled across her face, and how rosy her cheeks get on occasion. Well, he hasn’t forgotten, more like he’s pushed the thought from his mind. If he has dangerous dreams when he’s trying to forget about Donna, who’s to know what kind of thoughts he’d have if he didn’t repress them all? _Dr Agard would probably be throttling him if she were here._  
  
“I know you think I deserve it.” She lifts her chin up to look at Harvey with red eyes, challenging him to agree with her. It’s not nerves that’s bringing her to the edge of tears – it’s shame.

“Why would I say that?” He would never say those words to her. Of course Donna doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t deserve to be standing in the kitchen of a broken man who can’t even say the three little words “ _I’m in therapy”._ Even when she goddamn knows already.  
  
“Because I should have _known_.” She grabs another onion and picks up the pace with her knife. Her chopping has gotten faster and even more vigorous. The momentum is sending the odd piece flying across the bench. Harvey’s worried that she’s going to end up slicing her fingers instead, but it would be imprudent for him to intervene.  
  
Harvey’s never quite known how to comfort her. Not in the way she deserves. Despite Louis’ numerous shortcomings, even he is better at offering a sympathetic hug. Harvey’s never _needed_ to. _Apart from the night before her trial._ But it’s beginning to dawn on him that just as much as he has pretended to keep himself together in front of Donna, she’s had to do the very same thing over the years. For his sake. Harvey knows it’s wrong, but he finds it somewhat comforting to know that he’s not the only hot mess in the room. This could be his chance to start that conversation now. Let them be messed up together. _As long as you keep it together._  
  
  
“Do you want me to kick his ass?” Harvey offers instead. Harvey knows that Donna would never want to get in the way of a person’s marriage. He’s meant to be controlling his temper, but a worthy exception could be made when this man is both a cheater, _and_ a person who has hurt Donna. He’s unsure which of those characteristics make Harvey angrier. He’s fully prepared to make good on his offer, but something in Donna breaks and she starts laughing.  The knife falls to the counter as she covers her face, her shoulders still heaving with laughter. Or he hopes that it’s laughter. Harvey takes the opportunity to take the knife for himself and leave her with the vegetable peeler. He doesn’t want to see her shed any more tears, even if it’s just from the onions.   
  
“God, Harvey, don’t you have enough blood on your hands?” Donna gasps finally when she’s recovered. It’s a light-hearted jab, but it makes Harvey stares down at his hands. One of them is gripping the knife tightly, and the other is instinctively clenched.   
  
“I’m just trying to help,” he replies a little stiffly. Even when he knows she’s joking, it hits a little too close to home.  Her smile falters, and her expression turns worried. _Or is it disappointment?_ As she scrutinises him, Harvey starts wishing that his tolerance for jokes was a little higher. Just her gaze alone makes him uncomfortable, even before the questions have started. It’s his turn now.  
  
“You don’t want to have to run to _Louis_ every time something upsets you,” he adds defensively even though it’s a sentence that really doesn’t need to be said right now. Especially when it’s his own fault that Donna would go to Louis for comfort in the first place.  
  
“You still think I’m on Louis’ side.” It’s a statement, not a question. Donna turns her attention back to her food prep, not pushing Harvey for an answer. It’s not the direction Harvey wants the conversation to head in. Louis is still a subject that is too raw – for too many reasons – and all it does is detract from the issues that Harvey needs to be addressing. And it does little in helping Harvey to keep his composure. Donna correctly interprets his lack of answer as “ _don’t make me say yes”_ and miraculously she doesn’t take offence but swiftly moves to change the subject before they hit a thorny patch of conversation. Donna obviously wants to keep things as level-headed as he does, and Harvey appreciates that.  Of course, that’s difficult when even the most innocuous of questions can be touchy subjects.  
  


“How are you?” He should be thanking her for warding off an argument about loyalties and Louis, but small talk has never put Harvey more at unease. There’s a few more seconds of silence as Harvey gathers the courage to answer. He thinks about all the pill bottles that are filling up his medicine cabinet. Harvey absently tugs at his collar; the tie is still safely lying on his bed. It can’t hurt him. He hasn’t punched anyone since Louis ( _yet_ ) despite his urge to beat Mitchell into a pulp for putting Donna through that bullshit. Things are positively _peachy._  
  
“Better.” It’s a relative term. He may not exactly be cured, but’s he better than how he has been. Sleep has helped a great deal. Donna breaks eye contact with him for a few seconds when she scoops up the chopped onions and places them in a small bowl.  
  
“That’s not what I meant, Harvey. How _are_ you?” she asks again, a little more irritably. Donna’s not Dr Agard. That’s the problem. Dr Agard has to painstakingly walk Harvey through pointed questions to coax answers out of him, Donna knows the answer without him even needing to talk. They know each other so well that they’re used to communicating without talking. Or at least, Harvey’s used to communicating without talking. Donna has always been willing to speak her mind. Hell, she can speak _both_ their minds. Usually. Things have since changed, and that method has become faulty. Harvey needs to start learning to use his words. Donna has asked him so many times to actually talk about their problems and concerns without deflection. Rarely has he ever humoured her. Harvey wish he knew why he has never been able to give this to Donna. Even when he knows from a few short words that she’s demanding for him to just tell the goddamn truth.  
  
But the fact that she even needs to _ask_ says more about the current state of their relationship than anything he could say.  
  
  
“Jesus, Donna, how do you think?” Harvey snaps, perhaps a little unfairly. It’s the defence mechanism that he has developed from too many sessions with Dr Agard. Probing questions put him on edge, even if they’re well-intentioned and open-ended. He inwardly cringes at his volume for betraying him a second time, but much to Donna’s credit, she doesn’t flinch. A small voice in his head tells him it’s because she’s used to his responses to questions like this, and it makes his insides squirm.  
  
“I don’t know,” Donna admits simply, her tone softening. It’s not the defeatist statement it seems. When Donna prides herself on knowing everything, _especially_ when it concerns emotional intuition, such an admission is serious. She’s offering up a weakness in exchange for one of his. _Where the hell to begin?_    
  
_Just say it. Anything. ‘_ _I know you know.’_  
  
“Donna, what did I say to you?”  His own curiosity wins out, as well as the desire to push the conversation in a direction that he can control. Her olive branch is ignored for the time being.  
  
“When?” She cocks her head to the side in confusion, obviously trying to recall a conversation in which Harvey delved into detail about his feelings recently. She’s having difficulty because such a thing never happened. Donna doesn’t realise that Harvey has already changed the subject.  
  
“The message. I can’t remember,” Harvey tells her bluntly. He’s no longer making any attempts to match the tactful tones of his former secretary. They’ve known each other for so long that it’s pointless for him to pussyfoot around the matter. Dancing around with the ‘ _how are you’_ s and the ‘ _I’m fine’_ s would do both of them a disservice. It’s the kind of behaviour that Harvey tends to reserve for  
  
“You can’t remember?” she echoes, casting her eyes downward.  
  
“I’d blacked out at that point,” Harvey confirms. An intense betrayal flickers across her face so quickly that Harvey might have imagined it. It is quickly substituted with a muted sadness.  
  
“I don’t know, Harvey, I could barely decipher it anyway,” she murmurs, tucking a piece of hair behind her ears. Harvey, the seasoned poker player, recognises it instantly as a tell. An enormous one.  He’s almost insulted by her poor attempt at lying. But it suggests that whatever it is she’s hiding, it is enough to make her drop her guard somewhat.    
  
“You _do_ know. Tell me.” At no point did Harvey believe that the evening would involve _him_ trying to coax answers out of an unwilling Donna.  
  
“Harvey, if you can’t remember what you said, then it obviously doesn’t matter enough to you.” But it matters to Donna, and it’s aggravating that she’s choosing now of all times to be evasive. Her response is passive-aggressive and deflective, and the role reversal is not lost on Harvey. Is this what it has been like for everyone trying to talk with Harvey? He doesn’t like it at all. The revelation makes him angrier.  For once, _he’s telling the truth,_ and Donna isn’t buying it. Harvey’s desire to engage in reconciliation is fading rapidly.  
  
  
“You think I’m _lying_ to you?!” Donna has pulled away to step over to the fridge. She presses a hand to the chrome finish to steady herself. The lack of a denial for such a claim is as good as a yes, and Harvey follows her to her spot in the kitchen and stands about a foot behind her. Not having to look her in the eye makes it marginally easier to explain – and to uphold his utter indignation.  
  
“I was _this_ close from a trip to the ER. I didn’t even know I called you until you told me!” he insists to the back of her head.  
  
“That’s convenient,” she accuses without turning around. Harvey’s indignation once again flares up into the tiniest spark of anger. Instead of extinguishing it, however, he lets it burn through him.  
  
  
“Well, after everything else that happened that night, it’s no goddamn wonder!” Despite the headache the other night was, there’s no forgetting that initial sense of devastation and fury that has haunted him all weekend. Donna slowly turns back to face him, folding her arms tightly across her chest. Her eyes are glaring at Harvey, waiting for his excuse. And it’s an excuse she’s expecting, not a reasonable explanation.  She gives him a questioning shrug as if to say “ _Well?”_ but Harvey’s still irked that she doesn’t believe him and chooses to ignore her expression. He folds his own arms and leans back on the counter, forming a defiant stance. Any hopes of them resolving their problems maturely have almost vacated the premises. Next priority is still just to keep it together. Or at least, keep it more together than Donna.  
  
  
“What happened, Harvey?” she asks him slowly and deliberately. It’s obvious that Donna’s trying her hardest to keep it civil, and he finds her struggle encouraging. He’s not exactly sure when their conversation suddenly turned confrontational, but he doesn’t care; Harvey’s not about to let himself break before she does. The voice inside his head that’s telling him how pathetic his current mind set is drowned out by the notion that Harvey currently holds the bargaining chip in their conversation, and he’s not going to waste it.  
  
  
“Tell me what was in that message,” he demands, burying his hands in his pockets staunchly.  They’re as stubborn as each other.  Harvey’s fighting the growing urge to break their stand-off – to fight or flee or _something –_ but he digs his heels into his shoes and tries to channel his energy into staying right where he is. As calmly and as coolly as possible. There’s a few seconds where Harvey actually thinks that he has won; while he’s approaching their conversation as though it’s a competition– one where he can't lose – Donna is taking it on a personal level. And he can see she's almost at her breaking point. This is usually the point where Donna is the more reasonable of the two and compromise just enough that Harvey is placated. In the past, that’s been her role in their relationship – she doesn’t take her ego quite as seriously as he does. As often as Donna has busted his balls in the past, there have been times where she has swallowed her pride for the greater good. While Harvey’s about winning the small battles, Donna’s kept her focus on winning the war for them both.  
  
But that was back then. Their loyalties to each other have changed, and today it seems that instead of choosing the path of least resistance, Donna’s choosing mutiny.    
  
“I asked you first,” she replies icily. Donna’s not backing down so easily. Harvey takes a perverse delight in the way in which Donna has risen to his challenge, but it’s difficult to separate this glee from frustration. He’s pissed at her, and he’s also pissed that a part of him is actually enjoying this conversation. It’s been so long since they went mano a mano in _any_ capacity that he’ll even take this argument that’s quickly going south with an exasperated enthusiasm. _What the fuck is wrong with you, Harvey?_  
  
  
“No you didn’t. _I_ asked you first,” Harvey scoffs. His attempt to sound flippant wavers as his annoyance shines through.  Harvey’s aware of how ridiculously childish their argument has become but _fuck that_ when have they ever handled personal matters maturely with each other? He wants an answer, and until Donna gives him the answer he wants, Harvey’s not going to cooperate. Harvey’s waiting for a snappy comeback, but Donna breaks their fierce eye contact by shutting her eyes and almost wilting. _Almost._  
  
“Why do you _always_ do this?” she sighs. Donna sounds so defeated and sad that it’s almost enough for Harvey to drop his guard and apologise. But he then remembers how talented of an actress Donna is, and how she knows _exactly_ what will get him to cave. But not this time. He’s not going to fall for it. He’s smarter than that. _This really is a game now. But it sure as hell ain’t friendly._  
  
“Cut the bullshit, Donna, just answer the goddamn question.” When Donna’s eyes flutter back open, it’s not sadness that looks back at him – it’s contempt. It’s as though his own expression is mirrored in her face. Donna knows as well as he does that if Donna answers Harvey’s question, there’s absolutely no guarantee that he will return the favour. Harvey certainly doesn’t feel like appeasing her when it’s something that she can probably guess for herself.  


“I deleted the message, Harvey,” The mournful façade is well and truly dropped, and Donna’s back on the battlefield. Harvey’s heart skips a beat. _Deleted it?_ He’s losing his edge in their showdown. The tug-of-war continues, and this time it’s Harvey who’s teetering on the verge of defeat. The chances of finding out what’s going on are disappearing as quickly as Harvey tries to grasp it.  
  
“Why the hell would you do that?!” _Keep it together._ He fails to conceal the panic in his voice, and it’s almost catching. Donna swallows as though she’s trying to bury a lump in her throat, but she powers through it to send a spiteful retort in his direction.  
  
“You’re not the only one who can pretend that things never happened.” It’s so goddamn typical that the one time that he’s telling the truth that Donna doesn’t buy any of it. The hypocrisy of her words doesn’t escape Harvey, either. _He’s_ not the one that insisted they never speak of the other time again. Donna had his feelings locked in an iron vice when he agreed to her terms of employment and they’ve been trapped there ever since. The fact that she thinks this is _his fault_?!  
  
“What part of black-out drunk don’t you under _stand?!_ ” Harvey’s _this close_ to wrenching clumps of hair from his head. What’s the point in telling the truth if no-one’s going to believe him? If it weren’t for the dictaphone, Donna may not have even believed if Harvey was even in therapy. Hell, he doesn’t even know if she believes it now. She hasn’t brought it up, and it’s starting to concern Harvey that she hasn’t mentioned it, even in their argument. “ _Why can’t you believe me_?!”  
  
“Why can’t you trust me to just tell me the goddamn truth?!” Donna cries in response, and her voice breaks mid-sentence. And it’s not a little crack from just their argument, either. It’s a backdated reservoir of hurt, and Harvey’s just breached the floodgates. They’ve had this argument before. The imbalance of power between the things that Harvey will tell her, and the things that he expects Donna to tell him. He’s always maintained that it’s because he’s her boss ( _was_ her boss). Harvey’s not sure whether that’s always been the case, but he sure as hell can’t use that as an excuse anymore. Harvey’s not her boss, this isn’t privileged information, and they’re about to reach the point of no return.  
  
  
_Time out. Let’s stop._ Harvey’s clutching a mighty grenade of truth close to his heart and he’s a few sentences away from pulling the pin. Donna’s not trying to attack him anymore; he can tell from her voice that she wants their 12 year battle to end. It started the minute the two of them agreed to forget their secret dalliance and bury their feelings with it. It set a concrete precedent that’s taken Harvey an inordinate amount of time to even begin to dismantle. But if Harvey’s meant to be truthful, there’s no point in holding back.  
  
He’s about to launch on a damaging tirade when Donna continues.  
  
  
“You’ve _never_ trusted me fully, and yet whenever I kept things from you, in order to _protect_ you – suddenly I’m the bad guy?!” Donna’s _really_ failing in her ability to understand what’s going on with him.  Who the fuck does she think he ever trusted more?! No-one – _no-one –_ not Scottie, not Mike, not Dr Agard ( _yet),_ not a single person knows more about Harvey than Donna. She’s dealt with more than anyone else, but even Donna has limits. Harvey already breached one accidentally when he said ‘I love you’. To go any further is foolish. No sense in hurting both of them again. It doesn’t even occur to Harvey that he’s already using the word ‘trust’ in the past tense.  
  
Instead of articulating any of this, Harvey just shakes his head. She stares at him desperately for a few seconds, waiting for an elaboration.  When it doesn’t come, she shakes her own head.  
  
“I can’t keep doing this. Not today. I – I can’t.” Donna darts past him, trying to give Harvey as wide a berth as possible as she starts gathering her belongings from the counter. Harvey’s stomach gives a familiar curdle as he watches her wordlessly. _It’s happening again._  As angry as he is, if he lets her leave now, then he’ll never forgive himself. His hand reaches out and grabs her wrist.  
  
“ _Let go of me,”_ she whispers and there’s no mistaking the fear in her eyes this time. Harvey drops her wrist. It’s enough to keep her waiting for his response, though, and he feels awful for being responsible for that look on her face.  
  
“I found Louis’ dictaphone in your desk.” The implication of his sentence would normally be enough for Donna to understand immediately. But given how adrenaline-filled the evening has been he wouldn’t be surprised if her head is spinning as much as his.  
  
“Harvey, what-“  
  
“Donna, I know you know about the therapy.” In a lacklustre anti-climax, he has finally said it. But the overwhelming sense of relief he was expecting doesn’t come. Instead, his heart rate has picked up again. The wait for Donna’s response is almost worse than trying to tell her in the first place. Harvey instinctively presses his forefinger and thumb to his throat, as though he’s anticipating a panic attack that shouldn’t come. It has become something that is always lurking in the back of his mind – and the worry over it doesn’t help matters. _Whatever happened to ‘the truth will set you free’?_  
  
Donna’s fear and confusion quickly turns to sorrow. Not just sorrow - _guilt_. Horror, guilt, sorrow, and worst of all – pity. It confirms one thing at least – that he didn’t mention this in that goddamn message.    
  
This time, it’s Harvey who turns away from Donna. He was perfectly _fine_ going to therapy and taking pills and talking about his feelings just enough so he’d be able to forget about everything and move on. Harvey’s relied too much on other people in the past, and all it does is spurn him. It’s like his secret burdens anyone who learns about it, or in Louis’ case, adds fuel to his own emotional grease fire.  
  
“You can leave now if you want.” He’s still gripping his throat as he concentrates on keeping his breathing level.  
  
Harvey feels her slowly rub a soothing hand up and down his back. It’s so unexpected that his back seizes up at her touch. She touches him so infrequently that he had forgotten what it feels like. Harvey knows that if he allows her to get too sympathetic, he might break down and that’s the last thing he needs.  
  
  
“Don’t.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Donna hastily pulls away her hand, as though his back is composed of searing coals. The immediate absence of her touch stings almost as the initial contact, but Harvey uses every ounce of self-control to stay as still as possible.  
  
“I just…I just need a minute.” As quickly as their conversation turned into an argument, their argument has disintegrated just as swiftly. But he’s still feeling raw, and Harvey is putting all his trust into hoping that his medication will do its job.  
  
“Of course,” she says softly. Instead of standing around waiting for him to compose himself, Donna once again makes herself busy around the kitchen. Harvey closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing. It’s important for him to focus on the positives. _Inhale._ He hasn’t succumbed to a panic attack. _Exhale._ Despite all that he’s said to her, Donna’s still there. _Inhale._ He doesn’t have to worry about that stupid task now. _Exhale.  
  
_ When he’s feeling a bit calmer, Harvey starts paying attention to his surroundings again. The sounds that Donna is making don’t resemble the chopping and slicing from earlier. It sounds as though she has already started eating. But he knows they’re not even close to being finished with their cooking.  
  
“Donna, what are you doing?” he opens his eyes, and turns his head towards her. She’s sitting on a bar stool, one leg tucked under the other. In one hand is a ceramic ramekin from his cupboard, and the other hand is a spoon halfway to her mouth. She lowers her spoon when he catches her eye.  
  
“I made chocolate mousse today because I was considering having this for dinner instead.” The guilt in her voice this time is reminiscent of a child who has just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar a half hour before dinner.  She meekly holds out the ramekin to him.  
  
“You look like you could use some chocolate.” This is a special type of therapy, straight from the Book of Donna. Given all the other types he’s had lately, he’s open to trying something less destructive and humiliating.  
  
“I don’t think chocolate is going to fix my problems,” but he’s grabbing himself a spoon, for once obeying orders with very little resistance.  
  
“Oh yeah? When was the last time you had any?”  
  
“I don’t remember.” It’s become a motif of the evening, but this time Donna doesn’t take it to heart.  
  
“Mm. I rest my case.” She gives him a small smile, which he returns. When he takes his first spoonful out of Donna’s ramekin it’s not what he expected, and he narrowly avoids spitting it all the bench.  
  
“What the hell is this?”  
  
“It’s a whisky chocolate mousse,” Donna has the guilty look back on her face. This time, however, it’s remarkably endearing.  
  
“Is there _any_ chocolate in this?”  
  
“I might have gone a little overboard with the whisky…I was upset!” she says defensively. Harvey was planning to avoid all alcohol and alcohol derivatives, but who is he to flout the doctor’s orders? They eat in a few minutes of contended silence. He’s not sure whether it’s the peace of mind, a placebo effect, or that chocolate is actually that therapeutic, but he’s feeling a lot better than he was less than half an hour ago.  
  
“I _am_ sorry about Mitchell,” Harvey says sincerely. Despite the high alcohol content of the mousse, it settles easily in his stomach and he feels warm inside. Or maybe it’s just the comfort of knowing that he and Donna are talking again.  
  
“No, you’re not,” Donna counters without a beat.  
  
“You’re right. I’m not. I never liked that guy.”  
  
“You never even met him!” Donna chastises him, giving Harvey a playful swat on the shoulder.  
  
“I have a good feeling about these things,” Harvey insists, puffing out his chest. Donna rolls her eyes.  
  
“Well, Harvey, you made that clear in your message.” Harvey gives her a sideways glance. Is he finally going to get his answer?  
  
“Did I?” he asks, trying not to sound overly curious.  
  
“Yup. I think _singing_ about it was probably not the best idea.” Harvey’s heart jumps again. _Oh, no._ It’s worse than he thought. No wonder she deleted it.  
  
“I’m _joking,”_ Donna assures him when she catches his horrified expression. But she leans over and plucks the spoon from his hand.  
  
“I think you should keep away from the whisky mousse, though. You obviously can’t hold your liquor.” She places it on the bench. It’s still within reach of Harvey, but he respects the gesture and doesn’t attempt to grab it back. Instead, he props himself up on one elbow and watches as she finishes their dinner.  
  
“So, how many times did you listen to the message before you deleted it?”  Harvey’s feeling bold even though Donna has cut him off. Much to his surprise, Donna blushes. Harvey sits up straight.  
  
“You didn’t delete it, did you?!”  
  
“I did!” Donna protests, but it’s extremely feeble, and they both know it. For a split second, Harvey wants to leap out of his seat and grab Donna’s phone so she can replay it, but doubt clouds his mind again. After all they’ve gone through tonight, does he really want to hear it?  
  
“Donna…was what I said important?” He knows that Donna could easily lie about the contents of the message, but he’s trusting her to tell the truth.  
  
“It was important to me.” Then it’s important to him. Anything he may have said that night was bound to at least be emotional. But given that they’ve just reached a truce, Harvey isn’t quite ready to step over that hurdle yet. There is another option, however. One that will maximise how serious Harvey is about getting better.  
  
“I think my doctor will want to know what I said.” It’s still a little uneasy for Harvey to openly discuss his therapy around her, but it’s getting easier. He’s gotten this far, he may as well ensure that Dr Agard won’t be telling him ‘ _I told you so’_ any time soon.  
  
“Are you asking me to come with you?” She’s picking up what he’s not quite asking, and Harvey has never been more grateful for Donna’s mind-reading capabilities.  
  
“Would you?” Donna studies him for a few seconds, and then hands him back his spoon with a smile so he can finish their ‘dinner’.     
  
“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Sorry for the extremely late update. This chapter has been in the works since at least October, but my writing process went somewhere along the lines of:
> 
> \- watch 2x05 for inspiration  
> \- write a few thousand words  
> \- watch 2x05 - 2x08 multiple times and get bummed out  
> \- rewrite an alternate, more traumatic version of the chapter  
> \- listen to some Adele  
> \- write a few more thousand words  
> \- dilemma over the chapter's direction  
> \- Christmas
> 
> and then suddenly it's mid-February and Suits has returned and the chapter still hasn't been updated! But fear not. The next chapter will be updated far, far quicker than this one was. Thank you for reading!


	8. Declaration

 

Donna once had an audition with someone for a scene in a counselling setting. Her scene partner was flustered and botched the majority of his lines, leaving Donna to try and salvage the scene as best as she could. But unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. So Harvey is learning today. He’s trying to mentally steel himself for the appointment with Dr Agard, and Donna is chipping it away with idle chatter about every role she has ever played.  
  
“David Ackerman. I’m almost certain that he was trying to sabotage me. We _really_ didn’t like each other in college. There’s no way anyone could turn up to an audition like that and be so underprepared. Although, having said that, he really could be that bad at the best of times.” Harvey glances at her for a couple of seconds, and then goes back to focusing silently on the road. If Donna’s waiting for him to chime into the conversation, she’s not giving him much of an opportunity; she presses on with her story.   
  
“But that was okay. I tried out with another theatre troupe and they were performing _The Crucible_ , so really, it was his loss and my gain. The bastard still made it to Broadway somehow.” There’s a wistfulness to her voice that makes Harvey feel guilty. His mind tracks back to their first meeting. Back then, her career as a legal secretary was a means to an end. Now, it’s her entire life.  
  
“ _You would have made it to Broadway too,”_ he doesn’t say because it won’t make her feel any better. It’s his fault that she’s here. Instead of preparing for opening night of the autobiographical play from some up-and-coming hopeful from Long Island, Donna is sitting in a car with her lawyer ex-boss as he drives them to see his shrink. _How’s that for a melodrama?_  
  
  
Harvey knows that she’s not actively trying to make him feel guilty. They’ve been treading lightly since Sunday. It’s as though they don’t want to prematurely open any old wounds. They haven’t healed enough yet. If they had, Harvey wouldn’t still be on a pill a day to control any wayward panic attacks. He has learned his lesson about skipping medication twice already. Of course, it’s not the best time to address such matters when he’s in control of a motor vehicle, so he stays silent for a while. Donna’s next anecdote about her experience in _The Crucible_ comes to an end after another three minutes.  
  
  
“Is this what you’re like when you’re being questioned?” he asks lightly to skirt the mood into something marginally more positive.  
  
“What I’m _like_?! Why, what am I doing? Are you calling me weird?” _Ah-hah._ He knows that exact defensive tone; it’s one that he has used many a time with Dr Agard. A swell of affection overcomes Harvey as he realises for the first time that she might be just as nervous as he is. The hint of a smile flashes across his face, but he tries to hide it. He isn’t quick enough for Donna, however.  
  
“Why are you smiling? Seriously, what is it, Harvey? What am I doing?”  
  
“You’re talking a _lot._ ” There’s nothing wrong with Donna’s voice; his life has been sadly lacking and her near-gabbling is making up for lost time. The thought of her being anxious is even comforting to him.  
  
“Is there something wrong with that? I might as well, you’ve barely spoken since we left the office.” She hasn’t let him get a word in edgewise, but sure, Donna is technically correct. In fact, the exhaustive exploration of her personal history is much akin to a filibuster. Harvey should be grateful that their conversation isn’t weightier.  
  
  
“I’m just saying,” he shrugs innocently.  
  
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were nervous,” Harvey dares add after a minute. He doesn’t want to outright accuse her of it, but an affirmation would be nice.  
  
  
“Why should I be nervous, it’s YOUR therapist,” Donna throws back at him.  
  
“Like I said, I know better than that.” The brooding silence that follows all but confirms that Donna has been trying not to dwell on the afternoon ahead. She’s not going to give in and admit such a fact, however. Not without a gentle coaxing.  
  
“You haven’t denied that you’re nervous,” Harvey points out after another minute. “It would be okay if you were.” Donna glares at him for even considering such an assumption.  
  
“Shut up, Harvey.” With a grin, Harvey obliges, and the silence they settle back into is a comfortable one. It’s the first time in such a long time that they’ve felt like them again.  
  
  
“If anyone should be worried here, it’s _you_.” And she’s right. Donna’s not the one with two loose ropes around his neck hanging from different directions.  
  
  
“I’m not worried. I’m with you.” First lie of the day. Harvey’s unsure whether it’s for Donna’s benefit, or for his own. Not that lying will get them anywhere, but he thinks it more of a pep talk for himself. A self-suggestion as to how he should be feeling.  
  
“Don’t give me that shit,” Donna warns, pointing a finger sternly in his direction. Can she see through his lie?  
  
“I’m not allowed to state a fact?” It won’t stop Harvey from bluffing his way through their conversation.  
  
“You’re trying to butter me up before your therapy session. I know exactly what you’re doing.” Close enough. Harvey will accept that.    
  
“Is it working?”  
  
“ _No_.”  
  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
“Donna,” Harvey says suddenly as they’re about to walk in the door; half of him is about to call the whole thing off.  
  
“What is it, Harvey?” Donna looks worried. His words carry an urgency that he knows she recognises immediately. This is his chance.  
  
“…She doesn’t know about Mike.”  
  
“Okay, Harvey,” Donna says with a nod. She even smiles at him, which he returns. At the very least they can start the session as a team. It puts them on the same page stepping in the door, at least having one common ground that they are never to touch upon.  
  
But it only lasts for that one step into the door, because once the threshold is broken into Dr Agard’s office, Harvey continues forward and Donna draws back. She inhales and holds her breath, not speaking, and that troubles Harvey. A silent Donna is a threat. Although knowing Dr Agard, she won’t stay silent for very long. As he gives Donna a suspicious glance, it occurs to him that he’s being too goddamn paranoid.  
  
What is it about Dr Agard’s office that automatically puts him on the offence? Maybe it’s the colour scheme. _Focus, Harvey._  Dr Agard looks happier than Harvey’s ever seen her. That’s a positive. He has no incentive to start the session by antagonising anybody.  
  
“Harvey! Goodness, I didn’t think you’d be bringing company.” _Thanks a lot._ But Harvey doesn’t take offence, because he’s secretly pleased that he’s proved her wrong.  
  
“I thought I’d surprise you,” Harvey says generously. It’s as much a surprise to him as it is to Dr Agard, but they’ll undoubtedly get to that at some point.  
  
“You’ve exceeded all my expectations.”  
  
“Come on, doc, I told you I wouldn’t let you down.” It has been one of those ‘agree to disagree’ situations, with the roles swapping every second session.  
  
“Mm-hm,” she replies, not sounding convinced. But she’s smiling, which is encouraging.      
  
Donna is still at the edge of the room. She has an abnormally uncomfortable expression on her face. The same gap that Harvey once noted between himself and Dr Agard is now one between him and Donna. This part of Harvey’s life is so unfamiliar to her, and it’s going to taking some getting used to. To say that Harvey has gotten used to this new development  
is something that he’s not ready to admit. It would mean that he’d be implicitly accepting the way his life has played out in the past several months.  
  
But.  
  
He already has accepted this, hasn’t he? The regular therapy sessions, sticking to his medication (mostly), hiring Gretchen…things have changed. And he’s getting better. He thinks. He hopes. If he didn’t accept it, Harvey probably would still be stopping by Donna’s desk every hour in case she changed her mind.  
  
Too much thinking. He needs to stop. Self-doubt is dangerous, and Dr Agard can sniff it out from a mile away. Harvey should be focusing on how he’s going to adapt to having Donna with him today. She’s now pretending to take great interest in a painting on the wall, but Harvey knows she’s waiting for permission to be brought into the fold.  
  
“You must be Donna,” Dr Agard says warmly. “It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Dr Paula Agard.” Harvey doesn’t remember Dr Agard being this kind or pleasant in any of his sessions with her. It’s a landmark day for all.  
  
“Nice to meet you.”  
  
“So you agreed to come along with Harvey today?” _Blink twice if you were brought here against your will._ Such faith she has in him.  
  
“Of course,” Donna looks a little surprised at the question. Her answer is meant to paint Harvey in a positive light. Dr Agard glances over at Harvey and he can tell that in his next session he’s going to be facing a huge ‘ _I told you so_ ’. But because they have a guest to their session, both he and Dr Agard are on their best behaviour. For now.  
  
  
“Please, take a seat.”  
  
Harvey takes his normal spot, and Donna seats herself accordingly. He can already feel Dr Agard sizing them up, and he glances across the couch, trying to imagine what profile she is building up in her head. There’s a about a foot and a half between them on the couch. Is that too close? Too far away? He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  Harvey could pass off as relaxed were it not for his jiggling left leg giving the game away. Dr Agard spots it right away, and she smiles reassuringly at him to relax. Easier said than done. He’s waiting for it. Harvey’s not sure what for, exactly, but he knows it’s coming.  
  
  
“Are you feeling better today, Harvey?” Alas, the session has begun. Harvey nods mutely to Dr Agard’s question. Any other answer tends to get him into trouble, and he’s not quite prepared to defend what sarcastic response he might utter. The current path of least resistance is giving her the answer that she wants to hear without making her fight for it.  
  
“Your suspension hearing went well, I take it.” For once, Louis did the bare minimum of acting like a decent human being by getting it cancelled, but Harvey doesn’t feel like singing his praises. He doesn’t know what to say, so he makes the slightest of nods again. It’s two minutes into the session and already they’ve reached a topic that Donna recognises is a sore subject for Harvey. She is ready to leave if that’s what he needs.  
  
  
“Harvey, do you want me to wait outside? I don’t want to affect what you might say.” Donna knows that his silence says more about his state of mind than his words ever could. Harvey’s waiting for Dr Agard to encourage Donna to stay, but she’s also looking at him expectantly. It’s his decision to make. He could narrow the battle to just one front, but he’s achieved this much so far. Asking Donna to sit outside when he’s gone through all the stress of getting her to attend in the first place is a cop-out. It’s not just Dr Agard he’s making a point for. Harvey wants to show Donna that he has changed.  
  
  
  
“Stay,” Harvey says quietly. He’s praying that his level-headedness and maturity will score him brownie points with Dr Agard and will make her continue to go easy on him. He owes to himself, as well as the other two to at least try and keep it civil. It won’t be easy, but Harvey’s life has never been easy.  
  
  
“Are you sure?” The look on her eyes is one of well-practiced concern. Donna has always known when Harvey has needed space. It is now, more than ever, that space might be needed. But it is also now that Harvey needs to get over desire for space if he wants to finish this session still relatively intact.  
  
“I made you come all the way out here, I’d be a jerk if I asked you to sit outside.”  
  
“You didn’t _make_ me, I agreed to come. And that doesn’t answer my question.” Even now, Donna can pick up immediately when he’s dodging a question. She wants to hear a direct answer, straight from Harvey’s mouth.    
  
“I want you to stay,” Harvey repeats, a little more forcefully. “Please,” he adds. Dr Agard’s comment about him bullying Donna sometimes creeps back into his mind, and it makes him cringe every single time.  
  
  
“If there’s anything you don’t want me to hear, just say the word and I’ll leave.” And it would only take a single word. All he has to do is say her name, and she will do exactly what she knows he wants her to do. As much as Harvey may have told Dr Agard about Donna, this is something that can only be witnessed in person. Harvey’s first choice would have been Donna never hearing his conversation with Louis, but that’s not exactly an option now. So she may as well stay.  
  
“There was no suspension hearing. Louis managed to call it off,” It’s the kindest words Harvey has spoken about Louis in this room; he’s half-surprised that Dr Agard hasn’t fallen from her seat in shock.  
  
“You must feel relieved.”  
  
“Actually, I was looking forward to the challenge,” he replies, leaning back and resting his left arm on the back of the sofa.  Today must be a day for miracles, because he knows that both Donna and Dr Agard know that his last statement is at best a stretch and at worst complete horseshit – but neither of them call him out.  
  
  
“What would you have done if it hadn’t worked out?” Donna suddenly asks out of curiosity, and it’s almost casual. If the session can continue in this tone, then maybe it will be almost bearable.    
  
  
His eyes drift across the room as he tries to answer her question. The possibility of being suspended was one that Harvey tried not to contemplate too much, but now that it’s purely hypothetical, it’s interesting to ponder. Harvey doesn’t really have a satisfactory response, so he turns to an emotional crutch.  
  
  
“Finished that bottle of scotch?” he suggests, his eyes still focused on nowhere in particular.  
  
Much in the same way that you’re not supposed to joke about explosives in an airport, apparently joking about alcohol during therapy falls within the same taboo jurisdiction. His slip back into sarcasm goes over as well as a hungry cat in an aviary.  
  
  
“Is this becoming a problem, Harvey?” Dr Agard has her Therapist face on, with a capital T, and Harvey knows that she’s further categorising him as an addictive personality. The list gets longer every session. Stubborn. Uncooperative. A liar. Mommy issues. Angry. Bullying. Broken.  
  
“No. I was kidding.” It’s the wrong audience. Harvey is the only one in the room allowed to make such jokes, and he is also the only one who’s permitted to find them funny. Dr Agard has professionalism to keep, and Donna is new to Harvey’s journey of recovery. Mirth as a mechanism to cope comes later, somewhere between bargaining and denial and the varying levels of acceptance that Harvey is grappling. Maybe he should have joked about the pills instead.    
  
He looks over at Donna, trying to reassure her with a smile. If he can get a smile in response, even better. Instead, however, Donna swallows with great difficulty and can’t meet his eye. All his joke did was make her uncomfortable. He can see it in her eyes, she’s regretting being here.  
  
  
“You know what, maybe we should just forget about the message, Harvey,” Donna mumbles quietly.  
  
“What do you mean, forget about it?” His panic button has been flipped. It’s one of the only reasons why they’re both here today, and he can’t bear the thought of having admitted something that he isn’t even aware of. Especially when it has obviously impacted Donna so greatly.  
  
  
“It won’t help you, Harvey.”  
  
“That’s not your decision to make.” Harvey doesn’t want to fault Donna for not knowing what stage of recovery, but the fact remains that she doesn’t have a clue what might or might not help him.  
  
“Just like how you didn’t think it was my decision to go and work for Louis?” _And there it is._  It didn’t take them long to launch into the nitty gritty shitty dirt flung between them.  Dr Agard is going to have a field day now knowing that half the stuff she has said has been affirmed by Donna.  
  
“You could have talked to me about it first.” God, he knows how much of a hypocrite he sounds making such a suggestion, but it doesn’t mean that he can’t still say it.  
  
“I _tried,_ but you blew me off. Multiple times. And I know that if I show you, we’ll just go back to pretending that what we said doesn’t actually mean anything.” That is normally what Harvey would do, but he’s trying his hardest to work past that part of him. Donna folds her arms, shielding herself from him. Harvey would never physically hurt her, but his words and his emotions have done enough damage lately.  
  
“We can’t move on if we keep going back,” she says, shaking her head. Harvey never wanted to move on in the first place. He’s told her this, but it’s not enough. But surely this can be enough, the fact that he’s brought her to therapy? If this can’t prove to Donna that he’s willing to try and talk about it, then nothing ever will.  
  
“Look, whatever I said, it’s been said, and I can’t take it back. But _you_ were the one who wanted to talk about it! I just need you to throw me a goddamn bone and help me out. Why can’t you do that?!” Harvey _wants_ to talk about it, to get to the bottom of what’s driving a wedge between them. But it’s nigh impossible when he doesn’t even know what it is in that stupid message.  
  
“Because you _said_ it again!” Donna exclaims. _Oh. Oh, please, no._ Dr Agard takes advantage of the silence to finally jump in. She has shown unbelievable restraint so far. She’s probably been dying for the context, but has patiently waited until now to get a handle on the situation.  
  
“What message was this, Harvey?” He’s still staring at Donna, somewhat dumbfounded at thought of the ‘it’ that has been plaguing Donna for the past five days.  
  
“I called Donna and left her a message early on Friday morning. A couple of hours before I came to see you.” It was a busy night from start to finish, clearly.  
  
“May I ask what it was that you said ‘again’?” She can certainly ask, but Harvey can’t definitively answer. Donna’s got him covered, as usual. She opens her purse and fishes out her phone. The truth is contained inside that small device, and Harvey’s suddenly unsure if he wants to hear it.  
  
“See, you already know what you said,” she accuses. Harvey thinks he does, but until he hears it for himself, he dares not make any assumptions. There are very few things that Harvey could say that would affect Donna in this way. He _really_ hopes it’s not what he thinks, because that would make him an asshole.  
  
Well, he’s about to finally find out.  
  
  
******  
“Donna? I know it’s late and you don’t like me doing this – but I have to tell you something. I – hold on – _Mike?!_ ” Harvey’s voice fades as he calls out to his empty apartment. He’s obviously checking to see that there is no-one to overhear his intoxicated confession.    
  
“Donna, I’m probably gonna get suspended tomorrow. I know what I asked you to do, and I know that you’re the best at what you do – you _are._ But Louis is the worst _,_ and even you can’t always stop him. You couldn’t always stop _me,_ either, even when I shoulda listened to you when. I wanted to work with you because you help me be a better person, but I should’ve tried harder.  
  
  
“If I get suspended tomorrow, I’m going to miss you. I hope you’ll still have dinner with me sometimes even though I was a dick about your boyfriend. I’m still going to be a dick about your boyfriend, by the way, because I know you deserve better. I know that I’m completely wasted right now, but I need you to take this promise seriously. I mean it. I haven’t met the guy, but I know your type, and you need to stop settling for guys that are dicks. You’re too beautiful and too amazing to fall for murderers and assholes.  
  
“I’m sorry for making you pick between Louis and me. I’m an ass. I’m a better looking ass than Louis, but I still put you in an awful position. I shouldn’t have done that.  
  
“And the dream…oh, shit, look, forget I said anything about the dream. The dream never happened. Just like the other time. The other time was great, but nothing – _nothing_ – is worth what we had.” Oh God, if Harvey goes into any sort of detail about the dream, then all bets are off. There are very things that Harvey would prefer that Dr Agard knows over Donna, and this is top of the list.  


“I said that the worst thing that could happen to me was losing you, but that’s already happened. I can’t stop that. But the second worst thing would be you not knowing that you’re the most important person to me. I can fix that. I need you to know that I love you Donna. I know I’ve already said it, and I know it’s not fair, but it’s true. I’m not saying it just to comfort you, and I’m not saying it to try and get you to break up with your boyfriend, but I’m saying it because you need to know that’s where I stand. Even now.    
  
“Is that good enough for you, Doc?” his muffled voice yells out into the ether, just before the message cuts off.   

  
****  
  
_Holy word vomit, Harvey._ Yeah, he’s an asshole. And he said exactly what he hoped he didn’t. Now would be appropriate for Harvey to dunk his head into a pot of boiling water. His mind was protecting him by blocking it out. Harvey should have trusted his subconscious. It had his best interests at heart.  
  
The carpet in Dr Agard’s office is fascinating today. He’s never really paid attention to it, but she has quite an eye for interior design. If she ever decides to quit being a therapist, Dr Agard could go far.  
  
  
How many minutes have passed? Two? Five? Half an hour? Is the session over? That would be a goddamn miracle. Donna can drive herself back to Manhattan and Harvey can wander off into the wilderness until people forget who he is. Harvey wouldn’t care, but it’s been an excruciating amount of time since anyone has spoken. He’s not paying for silence. At the moment, however, Harvey’s throat feels like it’s lined with sawdust, so he’s not about to pipe up with anything useful. It’s not that anything he said was false, but the manner in which he spilled his heart out is an embarrassment.  
  
  
“Do you mind if I play it again? I didn’t quite catch all that.” Harvey minds a lot. Once was mortifying enough.  
  
“Be my guest,” Donna says quietly, failing to pick up on Harvey’s fervent wishes. Or maybe in spite of them. She hands her phone over to Dr Agard. Neither she nor Harvey have any need to listen to it again. Harvey’s voice _is_ difficult to understand, but he knows himself well enough to interpret his own intoxicated ramblings.  
  
While Dr Agard listens closely to the message a second time, Harvey braves looking sideways at Donna. Nothing in the message seems to surprise Donna. She is staring limply at a different part of the floor. She must have heard it enough times that she has numbed herself to his words.  
  
Dr Agard’s playing it a third time. How many times does she need? It’s not that difficult to understand. It may be that time has stopped and is repeating itself, because neither he nor Donna have budged an inch in what he guesses to be the last eight or so minutes. Donna was right. Nothing he said in that message could possibly help him right now. Harvey was wrong all along. He thought that Donna and Dr Agard would be his biggest worries today when in reality his biggest enemy is his big fat mouth.  
  
  
Dr Agard offers Donna a box of Kleenex. Once again, Harvey fails at comfort, and the task falls to others to pick up the slack.  
  
“That must have been hard for you to share.” Donna turns her head away after reluctantly taking the box from Dr Agard’s hands. She’s not yet crying, but she’s damn close and it’s all because of him.  
  
“More like stupid of me,” she mutters. Her eyes are glistening, but Harvey recognises them again as tears of shame rather than sadness. Donna is just as embarrassed as he is, even though she has no reason to be.  
  
“Why does it make you feel stupid?”  
  
“Because I let it get to me. I should know better by now. I should have just deleted it.” Harvey’s heart sinks. Given that Donna only broke up with Mitchell recently, Harvey’s idiocy will have affected her more than usual. Harvey already promised himself that he wouldn’t breach her limits again, but it turns out he did it again without even knowing. It’s not that he doesn’t mean what he said, but Harvey could have easily picked a kinder way of expressing it. Especially insulting her taste in guys. That falls into dick move territory. Even though he was correct. Harvey’s never wished more that he was wrong.  
  
Now that Dr Agard is finally satisfied that she has gotten the general picture, she doesn’t dally with launching straight into her questioning. Not even a passing remark about Harvey’s drunkenness.  
  
“What was this other time you mentioned?”  
  
The Other Time. Harvey has worked extremely hard to not bring it up in conversation with Dr Agard, ever. Partly because he doesn’t want to deal with the line of questioning that will inevitably follow, and partly because he promised Donna not to mention it again. Especially not to a third party. Not that Dr Agard necessarily qualifies as a traditional third party, but it’s still something that he doesn’t shout out to the world. Even though at the time of its occurrence he happily would have.

Dr Agard is still waiting for an answer, and Harvey suspects that she will not let either of them go until someone tells her. Donna’s already exposed part of herself to him and Dr Agard – it’s his turn now.

  
“Donna and I slept together.” And _that’s_ the turning point that Harvey knows will change the course of the interview. Dr Agard may have suspected that there was some degree of love in his relationship with Donna, but the look on her face tells him that this is an unexpected revelation.  
  
  
It’s about to get a whole lot messier from here on in. Asking Donna to join him really was the simple part.    



	9. Respiration

 

_"Donna and I slept together."_  
  
  


* * *

“The pair of you were lovers?!” ‘ _Lovers’? Really?!_ She’s making it sound like they had a long, torrid affair. The word is so unnecessarily loaded. Harvey doesn’t have _lovers_ , he has girlfriends. Or friends with benefits. Or consultations with opposing counsel. Something that accurately describes the often fleeting partnerships between him and the numerous women he’s bedded over the years.  
  
‘Lovers’ is the word that describes the relationship between Lily Specter and that asshole. Harvey wouldn’t touch the expression with a ten-foot pole. To hear it used to refer to him and Donna feels almost sacrilegious. He doesn’t know exactly what he’d call their relationship, but ‘lovers’ doesn’t cut it. To him, Donna is... _Donna._  
  
  
From the souring look on Donna’s face, she doesn’t quite agree with Dr Agard’s phrasing either. Even if she is more inclined to use the word than Harvey is, she certainly wouldn’t use it to describe the night they had. She has never romanticised their relationship. Not like Scottie did. If anything, Donna has only ever romanticised the relationships she’s had in spite of working for Harvey. The ones that wilted under the pressure of Donna’s long hours. Sometimes, they had crumbled thanks to murderers and cheaters. Those were the relationships that Donna had fooled herself would last. Harvey had watched every single one from afar as she picked herself up, dusted herself off, and pretended like it didn’t rattle her. She’s an experienced actress. Harvey has always done the polite thing, and pretend like he didn’t notice the distress anyway.  
  
But Donna’s never fooled herself about _them_. They’ve always had a mutual understanding about the nature of their relationship. Professional and unwavering. For the most part. Harvey wouldn’t use either word to describe their relationship now.  
  
  
Professional? They’ve crossed lines. Multiple instances, in many different ways. They may have only had sex once, but they’ve broken laws, protected each other and pulled the other back over the line.  Maybe it was never completely professional, although Harvey has never admitted that to anyone. Least of all to Donna.  
  
And as for unwavering? Well, his panic attacks beg to differ.    
  
  
The silence fills the room as Harvey refrains from speaking; it’s only fair to give Dr Agard’s mind time to buffer. The news of The Other Time (once again, conventional labels don’t cut it. Nothing else quite fits…) will require Dr Agard to re-evaluate every single context in which Harvey has mentioned Donna. He doesn’t want to rush her. The revelation has essentially reset any progress he may have made in Dr Agard’s eyes.  
  
Finally, she folds her arms, ready to resume the deluge. The news knocked her off-guard, but she has regained composure. Perhaps too much composure. Her head is cocked to one side, and she’s frowning slightly. Normally, Harvey has noticed, it’s a look commonly used when Dr Agard is listening intently to him speak. But his silence in this instance is likely more incriminating.  He holds her stare. Honestly, what kind of answer is she expecting? His lack of a denial should be more than enough. There’s a question poised on the tip of her tongue and it’s driving him mad waiting for her to ask it.  
  
  
“Harvey, what happens when people fail to disclose evidence during a case?” Oh, she’s using lawyer metaphors now. It’s a swift subject change, but Harvey’s used to this approach. He’s quite content to discuss his cases in his sessions. Once Dr Agard has him openly conversing about the relatively mundane aspects of his life, she’ll swing in with an emotionally difficult question that is apparently relevant to whatever Harvey’s been discussing. He can see this coming from a mile away. She’s not being very creative with her methods today, but then again, he _did_ surprise her with this new revelation.  
  
  
Although it’s a classic move by Dr Agard, Harvey is still slightly suspicious of the path the conversation is taking.  The subject matter falls under ‘Law: General’, but at the same time it’s an oddly personal question. Dr Agard can’t possibly know how intimately the matters of evidence and disclosure have affected Donna and Harvey’s relationship over the years. _Can she?_ If she doesn’t know already, Dr Agard may be able to pick it up from Donna’s increasingly uncomfortable expression.  
  


  
“Well, that depends. The judge can impose sanctions, it can delay a case, and sometimes it can breach the fourteenth amendment.” Sometimes, it can lead to fraud suits and unfair employment terminations and eventually even a betrayal or two. The usual.  
  
  
“So, ultimately, it’s a bad thing?” A beat follows, as Harvey casts Dr Agard a look of condescension. He _knows_ she knows. She’s an intelligent woman, and this is nothing more than a pointless charade that is meant to make Harvey feel like he holds all the cards. If anything, Harvey holds an advantage because she thinks he will fall for this.     
  
  
“ _Yes_.” He’ll play along for now. _Get to the point._  
  
“Okay, Harvey, so this is my understanding of the situation…” she begins; her tone is light, but it’s a veneer for the sarcasm that he can tell is bubbling under the surface. Harvey has really pissed her off.  
  
“When you first came to me, all you told me was that Donna used to be your secretary. You told me that the pair of you worked together for twelve years. You also said that you consider her family. But, you failed to tell me _important_ and _relevant_ details about the nature of your relationship. I find that to be extremely misleading, perhaps even deliberately so. Would you say that’s a fair assessment?” His first instinct is to stay quiet. The warning bells are ringing in his head; _don’t answer that, Harvey!_ Her calm tone is almost unsettling. Almost as if she isn’t expecting him to answer. But he’s a lawyer, and pleading the Fifth in this instance would be a waste of his skills when he has a defence.  
  
  
“First of all, I never lied about my relationship with Donna. You never asked.” If Dr Agard had at any point asked him point blank, yes or no, about sleeping with Donna - would he have said yes? Of course! Probably. Maybe. This is fucking ridiculous, anyway. Why is _he_ being blamed when Dr Agard is the one who didn’t think to ask and took him at face value?  
  
“And _secondly -”_ Goddamnit, he’s fallen for it _again_. He thought he had trained himself to watch for when Dr Agard is obviously luring him into emotional responses. But, on the other hand, fuck that. Just because Harvey has gotten better at controlling his anger (he knows that Dr Agard would consider that to be hearsay) doesn’t mean that he has to take it sitting down when someone is trying to wrongly fault him.  
  
  
What happens if he just stops talking? There is nothing compelling him to finish his sentence. With that one slip of vehemence, he has already said too much. But he can stop from incriminating himself further. To continue would just play right into her hands.  
  
Harvey cuts himself off, and just shakes his head in scorn.  If Dr Agard wants him to finish his sentence, she’s going to have to work for it. He is done giving her the emotional outbursts she desires.  
   
Is _this_ what Dr Agard wanted Donna to see? His uncooperative ass making denials, forever on the defence? It doesn’t make any sense. It’s nothing Donna hasn’t seen before. This is hardly the worst side of Harvey. Dr Agard even knows this, considering how she perceives him as a bully. In spite of this, Harvey dares not look in Donna’s direction. Any attempt to catch Donna’s eye may be seen as collusion to deceive Dr Agard once again, and they can’t have _that._  
  
“If you want this to work, Harvey, you _have_ to be open with me.” Dr Agard can spare him the lecture.  Does she really think he doesn’t know that? It’s a speech that he gives to people all the time.    
  
  
“Well, I’m sorry that when I came to you having goddamn panic attacks that I didn’t fill out _all_ the paperwork,” his voice is dripping with the sarcasm he knows that Dr Agard is working so carefully to suppress.  Donna inhales sharply in the corner of his vision and he instinctively turns to her.  
  
  
“You okay?” he feels like he should give her an out. The session is not exactly proving productive. All Harvey had said was that Dr Agard would want to listen to the message with him. They’re well beyond that now. If Donna says no, then maybe they can leave right with at least some dignity intact.  
  
  
“I’m fine.”  He ignores this, because there's only so much bullshit the room can take, and Harvey has all the bases covered. Besides, it’s Honesty Hour, and lies will not be tolerated.  
  
  


“No, you’re not. What is it?” Donna gives an uncomfortable wriggle, and her eyes are pleading with him; _don’t make me do this._ But he needs her desperately to step in for a minute while he focuses on not throttling Dr Agard.

  
“You haven’t told her _any_ thing.” It’s more confused than upset.  
  
  
“We promised not to talk about it,” he insists. It was Donna’s goddamn condition in the first place.  Not that this necessarily counts, because Harvey has said many things to Dr Agard that he will pretend he never discussed. Such as the dream. The _one_ consolation Harvey has about that message of his is that the ‘I love you’ will hopefully overshadow any mention of the dream. If Dr Agard brings it up first, he’s walking out. His tolerance has been tested enough as it is.    
  
  
“Why don’t you just tell her, Harvey?” _If you don’t I will_ , her tired voice is saying. Donna broke their verbal agreement anyway by leaving, so he’s free to tell whoever he wishes. If that’s what she really wants, then who is he to refuse?  
  
“Fine. _Yes,_ we had sex.” He doesn’t see why it’s so necessary for him to affirm it with his own words, but that’s why Dr Agard is the therapist and not him. Harvey kicks his foot out irritably as he realises that he has just confirmed that they were ‘lovers’ after all.  
  
  
“And why did you choose not to tell me that you two had a sexual relationship?”  
  
  
“It was _not_ -” Alright, time to stop this spread of misinformation. This is where a balancing act is going to have to come into play; if he lies, Donna will know. If he refuses to talk or omits any facts, Dr Agard’s going to get on his case. And if he phrases the truth indelicately, then he risks hurting Donna unnecessarily. He has reached the minefield. Anything he says can and most likely will blow up in his face. Harvey swallows, and tries to finish his sentence in a steady and rational manner.  
  
“Okay, it wasn’t a sexual _relationship._ It happened once. We had sex once. One time. That’s it.”  She’s not going to buy that. He used far too many words to get his point across. It reeks of panic and denial.  
  
  
  
“When did this happen?” It’s exceedingly rare that Dr Agard gives Harvey the benefit of the doubt, but maybe she’s finally learning to take what she can get from Harvey. Or maybe she knows that Donna will call him out if he lies.  
  
He shrugs, drumming his fingers lightly on the edge of the couch.    
  
“Years ago. It happened after we both resigned from the DA’s office. Separately,” he emphasises for good measure.  
  
“Why didn’t it continue?”  
  
  
Harvey hesitates.  
  
“I asked Donna to come work for me again. Donna has a rule of not sleeping with people she works with.” Despite his job as an attorney, in this instance he doesn’t feel so comfortable speaking on Donna’s behalf. But Donna hasn’t yet protested, so he takes it as implicit approval.  
  
“Did you know about this rule when you asked her to come and work for you again?” Far too well. Harvey suspects that Donna would have used that rule as a polite way to blow off work colleagues that she didn’t want to date. But with him, he knew that it was an arbitrary roadblock to prevent them damaging their working relationship. At least, he hopes.

  
“Yes.”  
  
“And you were both alright with this arrangement?” Cue more squirming. Internally, of course. Despite his tendency towards rage, he’s getting much better at concealing his discomfort. And you don’t become a seasoned poker player by letting your opponents see your hand in your face.  
  
Harvey gives his hand a careless flick.  
  
“Well, yeah.” It isn’t a lie. At the time, the thought them both working for Jessica together was exciting enough that he was willing to do anything to achieve it. But Harvey also doesn’t want to admit how much of his epiphany to ask Donna to join him was directly influenced by that same night that they never discuss. Besides, Dr Agard said ‘ _were’,_ not ‘ _are_ ’. Even if either of them have changed their minds since then, he doesn’t have to let on.  
  
  
Dr Agard looks across to Donna for her answer.  
  
“I insisted on it.” Dr Agard takes Donna’s answer as permission to start sending questions in her direction.  
  
“But that doesn’t mean that you were alright with it.” _Sorry, Donna._ Harvey has given Dr Agard far too much practice in picking up on evasive answers.  Harvey’s insolence has clearly pushed her into taking no prisoners.  
  
“What’s your question?” Donna’s voice is prickly. Harvey’s standoffishness must be catching. It’s almost comforting, knowing that he’s not the only one who is affronted by the questioning.  
  
  
“Did you insist on the rule because you didn’t _want_ to break it with him, or merely because you felt it necessary?” Implication: _did you hold off with Harvey because he was bad in the sack?_ That’s sure as hell what it feels like, anyway.  
  
“I didn’t want to break it _because_ it was necessary.”  
  
“Why was it necessary?” It irks him how Dr Agard is treating such a statement as subjective. It’s a given that whatever Harvey says is subject to intense scrutiny. But Donna has given Dr Agard no reason not to trust what she is saying.  
  
  
“Because sleeping with your co-workers is a bad idea.” They both have plenty of evidence to back it up. It’s an objective fact. He has enough past relationships under his belt that confirm this.  
  
  
“Have you ever broken the rule?” Singular ‘you’. Dr Agard knows a little about Harvey’s relationship with Scottie. Nevertheless, Harvey’s heart rate picks up as though the question is directed at him.  
  
“...Yeah.” It could just be that Harvey’s mirroring Donna’s emotions. Donna’s unease is evident, and he greatly empathises. Harvey can guess what the next question is going to be, and he doesn’t want to discuss it. The last thing Harvey needs is to listen to a dissection of Donna’s relationship with Stephen Huntley. He has to get the hell out of that office before he does something stupid. It’s a miracle he hasn’t lashed out already.  
  
“I need some water,” he announces, standing up abruptly. The other two look equally surprised.  
  


“Are you alright?” Dr Agard asks.  
  
“I’m fine,” he replies. Bile is rising in his throat at the thought of Donna’s British ex-boyfriend, but that will interpreted as a panic attack, so he’s best not to draw attention to it. And because he’s a sick son of a bitch, Harvey leaves the door open a crack so he can hear what awful things Donna might say when she thinks he’s not listening. But first, the water. He walks to the cooler and pours himself a cup of water, gulping it down. When he finishes it, he is drawn to the fact that his breathing is slightly laboured. _Wow_. Harvey hadn’t realised that he was still that angry about Stephen Huntley. The paper cup is crushed in his grasp, and he leans sideways against the wall, closing his eyes.  
  
The door isn’t quite open enough for him to catch what is being said inside, only their subdued murmurs. A wave of guilt hits Harvey. This is his therapy session, and yet he’s left Donna inside to field difficult questions about a man who hurt her badly. Oh, and Stephen Huntley, too. He has to go back and divert it back to something less painful.  
  
Just after this second cup of water. And maybe another minute of leaning against the wall. Donna will be able to hold her own for the next couple of minutes. Maybe they’re both laughing at him anyway. About how childish it is for him to be angry at Donna when he has no good reason. Just some misguided jealousy. Why was Harvey jealous, anyway? Stephen Huntley was a weasel. A slimy, despicable, _murdering_ little weasel. It probably reflects worse on Harvey that he let Stephen Huntley affect him.  
  
  
No-one wants to be present for their humiliation. Harvey’s better off out here. Away from the judgment. The wall is supportive. Literally, as his legs seem to be temporarily indisposed. He’s fine just standing here.  
  
No. More water. This bile taste is hard to get rid of. Why is he still finding it hard to breathe? The water spills over as he crushes this third cup. It falls somewhere to the ground as his grip loosens.  
  
  
“Harvey?” A hand gently touches his upper arm. It doesn’t rouse him from his fixation on his breathing.    
  
“Harvey, I think you need to come and sit down.” The hand guides him back into the office. Harvey’s eyes are shut. He thinks. Or perhaps not, because he’s looking right into Donna’s panicked face. His vision constricts slightly, and his heart rate increases as his legs buckle. _Oh, shit._  
  
“I’m fine, Donna,” he tries to choke out as Dr Agard helps him sit back down. His words do nothing to convince Donna, nor himself.  
  
“Donna, could you please go into my desk and grab something called lorazepam for me?” Donna disappears from his line of sight, and Harvey closes his eyes again. It does nothing to stop the spinning sensation he’s currently experiencing.  
  
“Harvey, have you taken any medication today?” It’s a long day that Dr Agard is asking him to remember.  
  
“I...think...yes.” Was it this morning, or the morning before? Or does he take them at night now? He should have just stuck to his schedule. Is this punishment for altering his dosage on Sunday? Well, he’s certainly learned his lesson.    
  
“Here you go,” he hears Donna say, and her whisper makes him feel awful about the situation he has forced her to witness.  
  
“And can you go and get two cups of water?” That’s a good idea. The water is good. It’ll make them feel better. Donna doesn’t need to see this. She doesn’t _deserve_ to see this. It wasn’t in the disclaimer.    
  
“Is - she - okay?”  
  
“She’s fine. Now, just breathe in, and out.” Dr Agard’s voice is clear and calm, and it helps. He feels his breathing start to steady. It’s passing, thank God. Within a couple of minutes, he almost feels back to normal.  
  
  
“What’s the medicine for?” Harvey asks, his eyes still squeezed shut. He hasn’t heard her open the box.  
  
“It was to give Donna something to do,” Dr Agard replies, picking up his wrist to feel his pulse. He can no longer feel his heart in his throat, nor taste bile. That has to be a good sign.  
  
“Why?” Harvey finally opens his eyes.  
  
“Her agitation only exacerbates yours.” Dr Agard walks over to the door to bring Donna back in. She has two cups of water in hand, one of which she passes to Harvey. He takes it without meeting her eye. Harvey knows seeing her distraught will make him feel worse, and there’s still the slightest miniscule chance that he can pretend that she didn’t just see that train wreck if he doesn’t make eye contact.  
  
  
“I think we better call it a day.” It’s the best thing to ever come out of Dr Agard’s mouth. Picking up where they left off will drain more energy out of him. He’s had enough. Of all of it. He’d even trade places with Louis right this very moment. Louis gets to work with Donna, after all.  
  
  
“I can drive us back, Harvey,” Donna offers. Harvey wants to decline; it’s not ideal for either of them to drive back. But he figures that he’s in the slightly more precarious position, so he hands his keys over. Donna takes them, and is out the door quickly. Oh, God, how he wants to run out that door, too. But he suspects that the session isn’t quite over for him yet.    
  
  
“Just a moment, Harvey, before you go.” He desperately hopes that Dr Agard isn’t going to kick him while he’s down. Harvey turns back to Dr Agard, with a very contrite look on his face. He probably looks terrible anyway, after his panic attack. _Be gentle, Doc._  
  


“I think I may need to increase your dosage.” _No!_ His own thoughts surprise him. These therapy sessions they’ve spent hours arguing and battling, just so that Harvey can secure those beautiful little pills that stop him from breaking down entirely. But now that they’re being offered without his solicitation, he realises that he doesn’t want them. Not like this.  

 

“So, that's not an improvement?” It's not good enough. Harvey has put in all this work, basically stripped himself raw - and for what? There’s been no sign of him improving. If anything, all that he has tried to do by bringing Donna into it has made it worse. This is the first time that he has had a panic attack _at therapy._ What was the point of all this?!

 

“You need to look at this long term. Every step you make helps, but the results aren't always going to be immediate, or even positive.” He swallows the lump in his throat that needs to go away right the hell now.

  
  
“That's bullshit,” he croaks.  
  


“I know that's not what you want to hear.” She’s apologetic. But he doesn’t want an apology, he just wants to _fix_ this.  
  


“What happens now?”

 

“That's up to you. You upheld your promise. But in my personal opinion, I think you should ask Donna to come along to another session. There's a lot to be discussed.” They barely touched on anything in the message, let alone Donna’s departure. Harvey knows they're not going to talk about any of this otherwise. He can see it already. The minute he walks out the door, it'll be like the session never happened. Or worse, he’ll screw it up like he normally does, and there’ll never be a chance to patch things up again without intervention. He’s inclined to agree with Dr Agard’s personal opinion this time.

 

“What if I have another panic attack?” At this rate, it’s not a matter of if, but when.  
  


“Then you have another panic attack. You deal with it, you move on. We can look at other options if it doesn't get any better. But I know you can get through this.” She catches him looking warily out at the door through which Donna so hastily departed.

 

“Donna will not judge you for what happened. She's just worried about you.” She is _now._ But before he ever so conveniently had a panic attack, she was angry with him about his stupid message. Her concern will fade. Anger lasts much longer. Harvey of all people should know.  
  


“But I hurt her.” A lot of loose ends were unravelled today, and they’re all waiting for him outside in his car.

“Like I said, it's your call. But avoiding your problems is just going to hurt you both even more.”  
  
  
Dr Agard writes him a script and holds it out to Harvey. He doesn’t reach out to take it immediately. It’s folded so neatly, so dangerously. It’s a metaphorical can of worms that he’s not quite sure he’s ready to open.  
  
“This is for a different class of medication from what you’ve already been taking. It’s stronger, but it could also have some nasty side effects. And you cannot, under _any_ circumstances, take it with alcohol.” Therapy, extra pills, possible side effects and to top it off no alcohol? No deal.  
  
  
“You’re really selling it to me,” Harvey says dryly.    
  
“I don’t want to prescribe it to you if I think there’s even the slightest chance that you might end up abusing it.”  
  
“I don’t want it.” More specifically, he doesn’t want that he _needs_ it. The no alcohol thing is just an extra downer. Harvey still sympathises with that side of him that only wants the quick fix to be able to manage things. But he doesn’t want to just manage his life. Harvey wants to get _better._ To accept a second type of treatment is a downwards trajectory.  
  
  
“The fact that you’re not begging me for pills suggests that already you’ve progressed in your recovery.”  
  
“Maybe I’ve just realised the deep shit I’m in,” Harvey counters. Given all that’s happened, he doesn’t want to even consider getting better until it’s an attainable goal.  
  
  
“Then that should make you work even harder.” Dr Agard gives him an encouraging smile. He could never be a therapist. How does she have the tolerance to remain pleasant after all that he’s put her through? Although, Donna’s even more of a saint, putting up with this crap for over a decade.  
  
“I will.” It’s the least he can do. By some miracle, Dr Agard is happy with this.  
  
  
“Good. I’ll see you next week, Harvey.”  


* * *

  
  
Harvey trudges slowly out of the office to his car. His hand rests on the door handle for a few seconds, and then he opens it. Another pause. One step at a time. _Okay. Get in the car_. Harvey slides into the passenger seat and shuts the door. His keeps his eyes trained on the windshield. Donna has wrapped her arms around the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the dashboard. His appearance does little to prompt her into starting the car. That’s okay. They’ll go when they’re ready.  
  
  
“Are you going back to the office?” he asks. An easy question. Free of obligation. Light. Donna swallows the same lump in her throat that Harvey had earlier.  
  
  
“Yeah, I think so,” she says slowly, still gazing at the speedometer. Work will be good for both of them. He needs a distraction. If he goes home, he’ll just spend the night worrying about the session and his new pills and everything else. Harvey will deal with it, but he just needs a break first. And at work, Donna can pretend like across the office, everything is fine with Harvey.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Okay,” she repeats in a stronger voice. Donna shakes herself out of the trance and starts the car. The motor is loud enough to quash what would otherwise be an awful silence. The smooth hum of the car is soothing. After the stressful afternoon they’ve had, it’s welcome. Of course, the silence won’t last. But he can takes these moments as they come.  
  
  
“That was a pretty dramatic way to get out of talking about that voice message, Harvey,” Donna finally remarks, fifteen minutes into their journey. It’s _almost_ a joking tone. What will happen if he makes a little joke back? Are they ready for that?  
  
“Damn, I thought that it was a foolproof plan.”  
  
“It scared the shit out of me, is what it did.” She’s not quite there yet. Harvey’s not quite sure if he’s there, either. The conversation with Dr Agard about his new medication is still fresh in his mind.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Harvey replies.  
  
“I know.” She smiles over at him, and it makes him feel better than he’s been all afternoon.  


* * *

  
  
When they’re walking to the offices of Pearson Specter Litt, Harvey wants to make sure that he hasn’t irrevocably damaged their professional relationship (if it wasn’t already).    
  
“Donna, I don’t want this to change things at work.” The irony of him saying something like this when he’s spent so much time resenting Donna’s very same request.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean, no fussing at work. I’m fine.” Donna hums in disagreement. But for Donna’s sanity, she really needs to stick to looking after Louis.  
  
“It’s okay. I’ve got Gretchen. She takes good care of me,” Harvey reassures her. He knows Donna knows this, because Donna hand-picked Gretchen for him in the first place. And he and Gretchen have an understanding he didn’t think he could have with another secretary. And he actually likes it.   
  
“You’ve got me, too,” she reminds him, squeezing his hand. Harvey can’t remember the last time they held hands – if at all. If he wasn't so dedicated to being professional, he'd find an excuse to do it more often.   
  
“Does that mean you’ll be my sponsor?” he waves his prescription playfully in her face. “I’m giving up drinking.”  
  
“Not if it means I have to give up my whisky chocolate mousse,” Donna shudders at the thought. Harvey makes a mental note to bring the leftovers to her desk tomorrow. They’ll be too tempting for him to have in his apartment.  
  
  
“If not, can you promise me something else?” It’s his turn to squeeze her hand back.  
  
“What?”  
  
“That you go back to being mad at me again. And that you tell me when it happens.”  
  
“I’m always mad at you, Harvey,” Donna sighs, shaking her head.  She gives him a reproachful look - although they have a truce now, it will come to an end. It’s not worth fighting now, when they’re both exhausted, but the time will come. Better for them to have a good nights’ sleep and perhaps even a mediator. Whether Dr Agard likes it or not, she’s part of the fold now. She’ll probably need just as much preparation as them.  
  
The elevator doors open, with Louis lying in wait in the lobby. Donna and Harvey manage to drop each other’s’ hands just before Louis can catch them.  
  
  
“Where the hell have you two been?” Harvey doesn’t answer Louis, simply squeezes past him out of the elevator.  
  
“Same time next week?” he calls over his shoulder. Donna nods. It’s strange how easy it is for him now to ask her back to therapy. He doesn’t want to say that Dr Agard was right, but Harvey will admit how relieved he is that Donna still wants to associate with him.  
  
  
“Don’t tell me you’re having another affair,” Louis says loudly enough that the entire of Manhattan could probably hear. Something about it rubs Harvey the wrong way, but it’s not until later that evening that he realises exactly why.  
  
_Another…_  
  



	10. Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter proceeds a little strongly with the mental turmoil, so if that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable I would advise proceeding with caution.

He's alone.  
  
It's quicksand, it's been pulling him under this whole time. The more he fights to deny it, the quicker it sucks him under. His only option is to stop struggling and let the earth pull him under until he can hit the bottom. It’s close, he can feel it.  
  
Hell isn't the screaming cesspool of fire he pictured it to be. It's the match that won't ignite, suffocated by the lack of oxygen. It's a smoky fog clouding his thoughts, leaving him to focus on naught but the things that matter the least. It's dull and muted, leaving him strangely apathetic as his worst nightmares come to fruition.  
  
  
There is a slow burning ember inside him that is harder to extinguish. He's angry at Louis, he's angry at himself, he's angry at almost everyone. Except, due to the nature of this anger, he can barely bring himself to act upon any of this. It's a different kind of anger to what he's used to experiencing. The sour haze that no-one around can see is devoid of urgency. It is patient. It does not attack; instead it slowly poisons his mind against those around him while he pretends everything is fine. Harvey's gotten good at that.  
  
But his panic attacks have stopped. So at least the pills are working.  
  
  
There are a few rare things he's still _passionately_ incensed about. Like the colour orange. Orange is an awful colour. He never thought too much into it, but recently it has been brought to attention just how disgusting and maddening it is.

 

The pill bottle on his nightstand clashes horribly with the décor of his apartment. He has considered on numerous occasions getting Gretchen to request that she ask for a different coloured pill bottle at the drugstore. But that, of course, would require spending more time talking about it than is necessary. Even though Gretchen knows more than most about his situation, she has barely said a word about it. She knows exactly what he needs of her.

 

It’s stigmatising. There’s nothing that screams ‘ _I’m afflicted_!’ quite like a little orange bottle that commands attention sitting in his medicine cabinet. He used to have an amicable relationship with the pills that keep his neurons from attacking himself from within. But now, whenever he has to pick up that godawful pumpkin shaded receptacle, he feels resentment.

 

Until he actually takes the medication. It brings Harvey a level of peace knowing that he won’t be facing the constriction and suffocation that his panic attacks brought him. A part of him knows that he shouldn’t be quite so content with the way that he can dry swallow his way out of his problems. But the pills dissuade any worries about that aspect, too. Harvey maintains that his problem is with the pill bottle, not the contents themselves.  But the fog hides the motivation to actually do something productive about it. A part of him is annoyed about this. But the pill bottle is a good place to start.

 

Orange is also the colour he associates with prison. And that’s something else he hates to ponder. As much as they’ve done to ensure that Mike has a paper trail legitimising his very career, it’s always at the back of Harvey’s mind. It would be reckless of him not to consider plans of action should the day come. He has never told Mike this. There’s no need for more people  to be in the same state of worry as Harvey is. The prospect of them getting caught is yet another persistent ache at the back of his mind. He almost appreciates it in a way; it keeps him on his toes. Better to be worried and prepared than push it out of his mind and pretend that it’s not an issue.  
  
If he were to admit any of this to Dr Agard, she would no doubt inquire as to why he doesn’t apply this philosophy to Donna. But that’s a completely different situation. He's still worried that that match _will_ ignite, and burn all the bridges he's been tentatively trying to repair.  
  
 

Harvey _could_ very well continue to wrangle the mess inside his head, _or_ he could put his mind to better use and actually achieve something. One thought that has been plaguing his mind today is Louis’ comment upon their return from the therapy session. It's been a few weeks since he last attended; mid-afternoon on a weekday when working for a prestigious law firm isn't exactly the best time to have a permanently unavailable window. The firm needs Harvey's (perceived) strength more than ever, and skipping out every Tuesday afternoon for undisclosed purposes doesn't paint him in a good light with the partners. Jessica doesn't know why, and she has yet to mention anything to him about it, but he knows she has noticed. And she has enough on her plate without her fellow named partner to be in the midst of a mental breakdown.  
  
  
It's even more difficult for Donna. Especially when you work for Louis Litt. Louis is even less likely to make allowances when he doesn't know what the available window is for; when he _suspects_ it's for frivolous purposes. Harvey can't believe that Louis can't put two and two together when he _knows_ that Harvey is in therapy - heck, Louis has one himself. Maybe such a logical leap doesn't extend to Donna's regularly scheduled absences. Why should it, when Harvey himself barely believed that Donna would join him for _one_ therapy session? Let alone frequent sessions. At any rate, it's been difficult to satisfy Louis' incessant questioning about their little escapades. He's a man that can't seem to understand the phrase " _mind your own goddamn business"._ As a result, Donna has indefinitely suspended any activity that doesn't involve work. It's nothing personal. She's not purposely avoiding him.  
  
  
  
After an enlightening meeting with Charles Forstman, the firm’s inner turmoil has been a struggle that Harvey wants to drown in the quicksand, so he figures that it’s the ideal time for him to visit Louis and set the record straight. Surely once Harvey gets to the root of this suspicion, he will be able to fully commit to helping the firm. Because that's how it works. Positive thinking. Positively too much thinking. Dwell not on the actions he'll have to take. He needs a clear head. Good luck with that.

 

 

“Harvey, what’s going on?” Harvey’s spinning slowly in Louis’ chair. It means he’s not forced to look at all of Louis’ ridiculous trinkets that he doesn’t want to scrutinise too closely. Plus, there’s the risk that there’s a photo of Esther around, and Harvey’s doing very well at the moment not paying attention to what’s caused him havoc. The havoc itself is enough to handle. Oh, and Norma's urn sitting happily on the window sill. Even in death, the woman had an incredible ability to leave a lasting impact on those around her. He's almost impressed.

 

“If you’re waiting for Donna, she’s -”  
  
“I’m not.” Harvey interrupts Louis before he can get too irritable about the occupation of his office.

 

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” Harvey has to give Louis some credit, Harvey doesn’t usually visit Louis’ office voluntarily – much less with a smile on his face.  
  
 

“I’m here to see you,” Harvey replies cheerfully. Louis’ brow furrows further in befuddlement.

 

“Uh – can I ask why?” Louis is nervous now _._ He’s still treading carefully after their little spat, and only has the courage to call Harvey out when they’re both in the presence of Jessica.

 

“It sounds like you just did.” Harvey is still spinning very slowly. He puts his foot to the ground to steady himself. His head takes a little longer to roll to a stop. A few blinks, and he's still having a little trouble bringing his surroundings into focus. This better not be a fucking panic attack. Harvey tries blinking again, and everything stills. _Thank God.  
_  

 

“Harvey – are you okay?” God, he _really_ used to hate that question. No-one really expects a proper answer – Harvey’s not about to wilfully give everyone the rundown on the state of his mental health. Definitely not Louis. Especially not Louis, considering what happened the last time he divulged any truth about his state. Harvey is not surprised, but he is still in theory furious with what Louis planned to do with the recording he made. His actual lividity, however, has subdued lately. So instead of sharp bursts of anger whenever Louis does something completely within the realms of his personality, Harvey is just in a constant low level state of irritation with Louis. Which is far more manageable. Practically normal.

 

“I’m _great.”_ It’s going to take a great deal to completely avoid the compulsion to lay on the heavy sarcasm whenever Louis is around. _Settle, Harvey._ Louis isn't actively trying to antagonise anyone (right now), and they're meant to be on the same side now. Whatever the hell that means.

 

“I hear what you’re saying, but making social calls isn’t exactly normal behaviour for us.” The man can be sharp when he wants to be. There was a time where Harvey and Louis convening in the same room as each other was a mutual choice. Even then, those days waxed and waned between partnerships, promotions and the odd peril.  But as of late? Non-existent. So Louis’ apprehension is earned. It would do them both a favour for Harvey to cut to the chase.

 

“I have a question for you.” Actually, Harvey has multiple questions having caught a glimpse at some of the photographs that Louis keeps in his office, but they’re questions he probably doesn’t want answers to.

 

“Okay…” Louis sits down at one of the chairs in front of his own desk. His hand is at his mouth; a leftover stance from his long battle with “masticating keratin”. The nail-biting habit of Louis’ persisted right up until he was made partner. Harvey knows this, because he’s been teasing Louis about it for the better part of a decade. He's not quite sure how dwelling over Louis' various tics is meant to help him in this scenario. Maybe it assures Harvey that he is not the only screw-up around here. But he's known _that_ for as long as he's been working at this firm.  
  
  
"Hello? Harvey?" One interesting effect of the way Harvey's mind has been working lately is that he's had the ability to think about things before he speaks. This isn't a positive development. The offhanded comments that are the lifeblood of his conversations with Mike don't come so easily now. But even worse, sometimes Harvey thinks so much about what he's going to say that his mind drifts away and he doesn't even speak at _all._ Sometimes, silence can work in his favour, like when he needs to be intimidating when making negotiations. Not when he's about to ask a simple question and then promptly fails to deliver.  
  
  
"Yeah." He straightens up in his seat, fiddling with the buttons on his jacket. What is he doing here? He's about to leave and visit Dr Agard within 20 minutes, why is he spending it with Louis when he could just as easily ask Donna? Is it worth it to keep drudging up the past unnecessarily?  Does he _really_ care if Louis knows about the other time, or is he just looking for a valid reason to be angry with her?  
  
  
As if she can read his mind, Donna enters the office. She halts when she sees both men in Louis' office. The confusion on her face confirms how peculiar this situation is.  
  
  
"Should I come back?"  
  
  
"No, I was just leaving. But can I talk to you outside for a minute?" He knows that Louis is watching them suspiciously as they exit the office, but he realises that he honestly doesn't give a shit anymore. Louis can think whatever he likes.  
  
  
"Are you coming to see Dr Agard with me today?"  
  
"Harvey, I'm so sorry. I can't, Louis has been really busy with everything, and I can't bail on him right now." _What about me_? Harvey bites his tongue with the first response that pops into his head. Even he is not that childish.  
  
  
"He's been overworking you, you deserve a break." Not that going to therapy counts as a break, but if Harvey were in Donna's shoes, he would take any possible reprieve to avoid Louis and his overbearing tendencies.  
  
  
"You don't get to tell me when I've been overworked.  And he's my _boss_ , I can't just tell him to shove it and go anyway." There's a little anger in her voice, and his instinct is to build on it. He _is_ still angry with Donna. To be more precise, he's livid. Livid that he can't make sense of anything, and nothing seems to be changing. Livid that he's equivocating Donna with a stupid little pill bottle. But if he starts a fight, he'll have something constructive to work on in therapy.  
  
  
"You did that to me," Harvey points out helpfully.  
 

* * *

 

He enters Dr Agard’s office alone that afternoon.  
  
"It's just you today?" Dr Agard immediately notes his lack of company.    
  
"Work came up." He's not lying. Withholding a significant portion of the truth, yes, but he can leave that to Dr Agard to figure that one out.  
  
"I don't think you should take this personally." How else is he supposed to take it? Her absence is because of what _he_ said. It's not exactly uncharacteristic of Donna, either. She has always put her work first before anything else. Harvey just likes to forget that nowadays Donna's work and his needs are now two separate entities. It's selfish to expect her to be able to leave whenever she needs to, especially when the firm is facing its internal crisis. He's dragging her down each time he tries to escape the quicksand.   
  
But it didn't have to be like this.  
  
  
"I told her that she's abandoned me before, so she can do it to Louis for once." Dr Agard needs to know the truth. Harvey doesn't want to be placated today. He wants clarity, even if it hurts.  
  
"Did you really?" It's hard to tell whether her tone is one of disbelief, disgust or whether she's mildly impressed.  
  
"Maybe not in those words," Harvey concedes.  
  
"You told me that your firm has been going through some difficulties, is that correct?" It's quite the understatement. Harvey's got a gun held to his head with Daniel Hardman and now Charles Forstman, and it doesn't help that he's been wading through this mental fog that makes it hard for him to concentrate on much except for his own thoughts. His whole career lately has been one big amber alert, and he wants to dismiss it once and for all.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And, regardless of the immense stress that you're all facing, you're saying it's the same as her abandoning you again." Dr Agard doesn't get it. There's no ' _again',_ this is just one big instance of abandonment that he has been trying to grapple with. And he honestly didn't bring it up because of any resentment that he may have felt. He just wanted to start a conversation that doesn’t consist of brief pleasantries.  
  
"I didn't say _that,_ " does he really come off as that callous? This is why he comes to therapy. To get a cold, hard look in the mirror.  
  
"I'm using your own words, Harvey. Frankly, I'm surprised that you wanted her to join us again." Harvey would be surprised as well, but they've spent so little time together lately that he's willing to see her in _any_ capacity. The fact that he still angers her more than she misses him is probably better for her in the long run, but it still hurts.  
  
"Didn't my voicemail give you the gist?" He throws his arm over the back of the couch, choosing a corner of the room to fix his eyes on. It's in the opposite direction of the empty spot on the couch beside him. He's beginning to tire of the games just as much as Dr Agard. They waste the energy he needs just to keep his head above ground.  
  
  
"Are you still expecting that she might come back and work for you?" He knows better than to expect anything of the sort. But hope? There's always that hope. The distant hope that she might one day forgive all his bullshit and come back to him will never die.  
  
"She wouldn't." Harvey is an expert at driving away those he cares about. Scottie was another unfortunate casualty of this skill of his. Plus, with what he's planning to do, he could never bring Donna down with him.  
  
  
"Do you understand why?"  
  
"Yes," he croaks. Harvey _hates_ that he knows, and that he can't seem to fix it without making things worse. He knows _why_ she left; Donna's told him as much. He'd be a complete fool not to listen to his own goddamn voicemail that he sent and not see the source of Donna's confusion and uncertainty. He's been an ass not listening _to Donna herself_ telling him how his words and actions have hurt her. The reason, quite plainly and simply, is him. Donna forced his hand, doing everything she always does, everything that he has always trusted and expected her to do. What was he to expect by saying that he loved her? He could barely say it to Scottie.  
  
  
There's no question as to _why_ this happened. The real question is how. How could this go on for as long as it did? How did they get to this point? How could he _let_ them get to this point?  
  
  
He's poison. To everyone.  This isn't right. He needs to change the subject, and fast before it starts spiralling downwards.  
 

"I want to change my meds."  
  
"What's wrong? Are you experiencing adverse side effects _?" The colour of the bottle is vile. It needs to go._ Thinking about Donna's suffering at his hand is something he wants to obscure in the fog. He can't easily change that. The pill bottle, however, is hopefully a quick fix.  
_  
_ "Yes."  
  
"What sort of side effects?"  
  
"They're affecting my mood." The problem being that _nothing_ seems to affect his mood. And he can’t even drink alcohol to try and switch it up.  
  
"Have you experienced any more panic attacks?"  
  
"No."  
  
"How exactly has your mood been affected?" Harvey turns his head away.  
  
"I'm not a doctor, I don't know," he mumbles. His symptoms are so vague that they could easily put down to stress and lack of sleep.  If he went into detail the hatred of the bottle the pills come in, it would provide a good case for him to be institutionalised.  
  
  
"Have you been experiencing any mood swings?" He shrugs and shakes his head. Any switches in his mood haven’t been visible to anyone, so he can’t claim this, either.  
  
"Uncontrollable anger?" Not in the sense that she's referring to. Harvey can't curb his annoyance with everyone and everything that steps in his way, but it hasn't caused him to lash out. Relative to his recent actions, he has been practically docile.  
  
  
"No," he sighs. The lack of temper really should be something to proud of, but he barely feels like himself anymore.  
  
  
"Hopelessness? Guilt?" That stirs something unpleasant inside him.  
  
" _No." The lawyer doth protest too much._  
  
  
"What are you feeling guilty about?" Dr Agard, like he once taught Mike, knows exactly where to press when it hurts. She knows now not to bother with challenging his denial and instead ignore it entirely.  
  
  
"I'm not guilty," he repeats, but the words are empty. He's guilty as sin. The lead perpetrator in most of the problems around him. It's only his training from the DA's office that prompts him to defend himself.  
  
"Are you sure about that?" He doesn't respond.  The _lack_ of response says as much as his protest. He can’t win, but maybe today isn’t about winning.  
  
  
"Do you feel like you deserve to keep having these panic attacks?" It’s a difficult question to answer. The last thing he wants to provoke is a pity party by saying yes, but if he's being entirely honest, it feels like a fitting reminder of what he has done. And he's beginning to tire of having most of his emotions suppressed. Especially the positive ones.   
  
  
"You have come a long way, Harvey. You need to know that."  
  
  
"It's still not enough." He knows what needs to be done. It’s not enough _yet_ , but it soon will be. His next move requires no pushing from Dr Agard. For once, he’s going to talk to Donna himself. Unprompted. She deserves that much from him.

* * *

 

“Hey, you got time for some dinner?”

 

“ _No,_ ” Donna replies emphatically without even looking up.  She’s still angry at him from earlier today, and it’s understandable. But there are a few things that Harvey needs to discuss, and an annoyed Donna is better than no Donna at all.

 

“Why don’t you come and finish your work in my office?” he suggests. “There are some dumplings with your name on them.”  Donna puts down her pen and pretends to frown at him in disapproval. But he catches her eyes flickering over his shoulder in a distinctly dumplingward direction. Harvey knows for a fact that neither of them have had a proper meal all day. He wouldn’t want to hazard a guess at how many times she may have slipped into the breakroom, but given that the firm has just moved into the equivalent of DEFCON 2, it’s likely not many.

 

“You wouldn’t want them to get cold now, would you?” He allows himself another mouthful of noodles. Maybe he can pretend that he’s charming her with provision of food for the pair of them.  

 

“You can have them, Harvey, I’m busy right now,” she replies emphatically.  
  
  
"Please?" The vulnerability in his voice catches them both by surprise. It's only because he's tired, of course. Harvey clears his throat, trying to shake off the moment.  
  
  
"You don't have to talk to me," he adds. It's an attempt to lighten the situation. And he has to say a few things, things that she doesn’t have to respond to. As long as Donna’s willing to give him her company and an ear for a few minutes.    
  
  
"I suppose I can take a ten minute break." Perfect. He only needs five. Anything after that is a bonus. The food is always a good way to start. It’s less likely that any arguments will be fuelled by hunger. He spends five of the next six minutes trying to figure out how to start a conversation.  
Their food was eaten quickly, and now Donna sits next to him on his couch in a contented silence. Her head is tilted back, hair fanned against the back of the couch.  In the light it looks almost a soothing brown colour. Her eyes are closed and it’s the most peaceful he’s seen her in a long time. He has forgotten what it’s like to feel that serene, but hopefully he can experience it soon.  


"I was a jerk." It’s a clunky way to break the silence, but it’s a start.  
  
  
"Which time?" Donna asks without a beat.  Her eyes don’t even open. Oh, it's going to be like pulling teeth. She’s not going to make it easy for him. They only have a limited amount of time to go over all his past transgressions. Best to start small.  
  
"Donna," Harvey admonishes. He wants to fix things, but he’s jittery enough broaching the subject without Donna prodding him.  
  
"You're going to have to be more specific," Donna replies with a shrug. She cracks open an experimental eyelid to peer at him. When he doesn’t reply immediately, she sits up straight and looks him straight in the eye, waiting. Maybe even daring him to proceed. If anyone knows how difficult it is for Harvey to admit his wrongs, it’s Donna. Harvey can only hope that his attempt to repair their relationship will be appreciated.  
  
  
"Okay, I _am_ a jerk. And I’m sorry for what I said today. That wasn’t fair to you.” Donna bows her head. She seems a little surprised by his apology, and even a little humbled. That speaks to his faults. Apologies have been few and far between from Harvey Specter, and that has to end now.  
  
  
"And Scottie," Harvey says. His mouth is a little dry, and he's suddenly finding it hard to formulate full sentences. It’s a long overdue conversation, and it’s difficult trying to figure out the best way to approach it. God, what he wouldn’t do for some liquid courage right now.  
  
"What about her?" Donna’s voice sounds guarded. Scottie falls under the sensitive category that also contains Stephen Huntley. Both times, they learned more about themselves than was pleasant. Harvey doesn’t need to spend much time at all on the subject of Scottie, but there’s something that Donna needs to understand about his relationship with Scottie and his relationship with Donna.  
  
  
"You know what Jessica said to me after -" What the hell is supposed to say here? Anything involving the word 'leaving' will come across as melodramatic and he doesn't want to sound like he's blaming her again, after what happened earlier in the day. He's sick of arguments, he's sick of the anger.  
  
"After I started working for Louis?" _God bless Donna Paulsen._ He likely would have phrased it in an inflammatory way, and that’s the last thing he needs right now. Harvey gives her a grateful smile, and she  
  
"She said that Scottie leaving didn't affect me as much as you did." Once again, Harvey can practically see her heart skip a beat from her facial expression. But she does her best to keep herself composed. And he hates himself for making Donna act guarded around him.  
  
"Is that true?"  
  
"You know it is," Harvey says. Donna turns away to gaze at the table in front of them as she digests his words.  
  
  
  
"And do you know _why_ that is?" Her voice is quiet. She's nervous putting forth the question to him. As much as Harvey's been trying not to antagonise her, Donna obviously wants a fight as little as he does.  
  
  
“Because with Scottie, I knew what I was doing. I was protecting someone else. I never thought it would ever be a possibility that you would leave. But I drove you away. And I’m sorry.”

Donna opens her mouth, presumably to add or protest against his words, but he needs to say it all before he loses the courage.  
  
"Donna, wait. You did nothing wrong. You were just acting in self-defence." He's used that expression before, but he was referring to himself. All this time, his narrative has been that Donna threw the first punch, but Harvey sees now that it was him. But at the time he didn’t see his “I love you” as a sucker punch.  
  
  
"Louis really did need my help, you know. And to unleash him on a temp would be irresponsible following Norma’s death,” Donna’s trying to alleviate the situation and he doesn’t deserve the levity. He deserves none of the goodness that she brings to his life.  
  
  
“I didn’t have to be such a dick about it.” Donna gives a little hum in agreement, but in a graceful act of tact, the matter isn’t pressed. She’s still probably marvelling that Harvey is finally giving her a full, unprompted apology. He takes the implicit permission granted by Donna to change the subject slightly.  
  
  
"Does Louis know about us?" He remembers being angry about the possibility, but now it's little more than a mild curiosity.  
  
"Yes." Well, at least he wasn’t crazy for suspecting it. And it explains a lot about Louis’ behaviour to them both.  
  
"How long?"  
  
"When Louis found out about Mike. Said he'd never trust me unless I told the truth." Even this is his fault. It keeps coming back to his choices, his actions, _his_ secrets.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"I thought you'd be upset that I told him." Donna has no idea. She's been anticipating a heated argument, with name-calling and backstabbing.  
  
  
"I can't keep fighting anymore." Rock bottom is coming for him, and he needs to embrace it.  
  
  
"I don't want to keep fighting, either. I want to move forward.” This is encouraging. For once, they’re both on the same page. If Donna can keep moving forward, then it doesn’t matter what he does. She doesn’t have to be tainted by his past actions. Harvey knows that Donna will especially be better off if she can move on from _him._  
  
  
"There's only one way I can stop Forstman." There's the slightest hint of tears in his eyes as he says it. The spice from their food is having an intense effect on him. He looks to Donna and watches the comprehension dawn on her face. He's always loved how Donna could fill in the gaps of what he wasn't saying.  It's something he'll miss the hell out of.  
  
  
" _No."_ Finally, _finally,_ she's angry. This is easier for him to handle than a Donna who is hurt. She jumps up out of her seat; a fighting stance.  
  
"There _has_ to be something else you can do!" she exclaims in frustration. The more she's angry at him, the less his departure will hurt. He's hoping that he has angered her enough that Donna won’t suffer as much from his decision.  
  


"There's not."  
  
  
"He can't do that to us! That son of a bitch, I'm going to find that billionaire bastard and _kill_ him." _Us_. Fuck, Donna's not mad at Harvey. He's doing the very same thing that sent his mind into a tailspin for several months, and the hypocrisy is failing to bother her. She should be infuriated with _him,_ but instead she’s on Harvey’s side when she shouldn’t be. _Us._ That little word throws him more than he would like.  
  
  
"He's not doing it to _us,_ he's doing it to me. It's only me he wants. I have to end this."  
   
   
"So that's it, you're just going to give up?!" It's not worth it to fight her on this. He stands up, walking behind his desk.  
  
"I've made up my mind." If he doesn't meet her eyes, then maybe he can pretend that she can't see his pain. The Manhattan skyline is the perfect distraction. He can get lost in the lights of the city, as they blur into a familiar haze in front of him. The thought of leaving her hurts as much as it hurts Donna. If he didn’t understand how Donna felt to quit, he sure as hell does now.  
  
  
"You're trying to drive me away," she accuses, slowly walking over next to him. Lying to her would be rude, especially when it would do nothing to convince her. Donna knows him, she knows how he works, and she can see the truth. Even now, she’s the best at what she does. Her _je ne sais quoi_ pierces through the wall of bullshit, and he needs to stop denying it.  
  
  
"I've done enough, Donna. All I’ve done is hurt this firm and everyone in it." _Especially you._  
  
  
"I'm not going to let you," Donna insists angrily.      
  
"You can't stop me," he can't help but smile at her.  
  
  
"Watch me," she challenges and suddenly _she's kissing him;_ it’s the best and the worst thing she has ever done. He freezes for a second. It shouldn’t be happening like this. But if he doesn’t do this right now, there may not be a next time. Donna pulls away, sensing his hesitation. She waits for him, vulnerability in her eyes, waiting to be pushed away by him once again. Instead, Harvey pulls her back into him; one hand cupping her face, the other practically crushing her body to him. He kisses her with all the pain and sorrow he feels. For a blissful few seconds, she makes him forget everything as she returns his kiss with fervour. But in Harvey’s life, all good things must come to end and he breaks the kiss before he ruins things any further.  
  
  
“We can’t,” he whispers, but the hand cradling her face refuses to budge. If he lets go, she’ll see his hands shaking, and the last thing he needs is to confirm to her that he’s trying not to break. Donna steps back. She gives him a dazed smile for a few seconds, mirroring how he felt when there was nothing in the world but them. But her face drops when context re-emerges and they remember where they are.

  
  
“Harvey?” Her voice is shaking, and he nearly collapses at the sound.  It’s not the kiss that would make him drop everything and stop, it’s the fear in her voice. Donna’s spooked, and he all he wants in that moment is to drop everything else, forgo the firm and Forstman and find another way. But he knows it’s fleeting and he has to let this desire pass. But he has to be strong for them both.  
  
  
“Are you going to be okay?”  
  
  
“I don’t know,” he admits. It’s the strongest he’s ever been, admitting this.  Donna winds her arms around his neck and buries her head in Harvey’s shoulder; the hug that she once wanted, and the hug that he has apparently always needed. He chuckles as he realises Donna was right: she is making it a hell of a lot harder for him to leave.  
  
  
“You know I’ll always be there for you, right?” Donna asks softly.  Harvey wishes he could say the same. He hopes that one day, she’ll see this is for the best. But for now, all he does is hold her tighter until it really is time for them to go. Before Donna leaves his office, she gazes at him with intense disquiet. It’s her look when she knows there’s more than Harvey is telling her.  
  
  
“Don’t worry about me,” he assures her. But she’s not convinced. Still she stands at his door, like there’s something else Donna wants to say to him. But there are very few words that are enough now.  
  
“I love you, Donna,” Harvey says, because it’s the only thing he can think of saying to her. She doesn’t smile, but she nods her head and finally turns on her heel to exit his office.  
  
As he walks out of Pearson Specter Litt later that night, he’s alone once again. The way it has to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey howdy hey. Here's the long overdue update! I am so, so sorry it took so long, this chapter threw some real difficulties (and opportunities!) at me. It has been brewing in my mind ever since I wrote the last chapter, and involved multiple rewrites. Throw in a touch of law school (seriously, Rachel Zane is my new idol for juggling working for PSL AND going to law school. My heroine!) and then you have a ridiculous wait for the chapter. 
> 
> I hope that you guys enjoyed it, and I will do my very best not to keep all you awesome people waiting for the next chapter (aka DON'T WORRY THIS ISN'T THE END!). Thank you all for sticking with me, you mean so much to me!


	11. Abnegation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hand if you felt personally victimised by episode 6x11.

Harvey Specter doesn't know what to do.  
  
As it turns out, the combination of his shame, his betrayal and his failure fits nicely into a business size envelope. It's even able to hurt him one last time by way of a paper cut.  Only the thought of others having to see evidence of his physical pain (no matter how small) inspires him to treat the wound. Otherwise, he'd be happy to let it bleed.  
  
The language in the resignation letter is so formal and polite compared to how he felt when he was writing it. Nothing in the letter details his absolute fury with those that brought him to his knees. Resignation letters are so hollow. It's best for them to retain a level of professionalism, or else it opens up the possibility for fractured relations or even lawsuits. When he resigned from the District Attorney's office, it took considerable willpower not to make questionable threats and disgusted insults. But it's a good thing he didn't. It's only with hindsight does he realise that his angry resignation had less to do with Cameron Dennis' activities and more to do with his own failure to see right way.  
  
 How can he leave the firm? Notwithstanding the reactions he will no doubt receive from everyone, what will it do to him? What's the next step? _Is_ there a next step? With his reputation and experience, he will have absolutely no trouble finding a job somewhere else. But no matter how good the firm, no matter how good the position, it's never going to be the same.  
  
In the position that he has coveted for so many years, Harvey used to think that _he_ is the firm. But now, as he looks forward to nothing but uncertainty and murky solitude, he's realising that it's the other way around. He's abandoning his goddamn family, the very same action that he has hated his mother for for so many years. The only fledgling consolation he holds is that it is in everyone's best interests that he's leaving, and his departure will guarantee the firm's safety.   
  
Is that what Lily Specter told herself the day she left their family?  
  
Harvey pushes the letter he's currently writing aside to grab a new piece of paper. Despite the fact he's got a couple of decades of anger bottled inside him over the issue, with his pen poised over the page he can only muster a few words.  
  
_Why'd you do it, Mom?_

 

But the real question that Harvey wants to ask is _how._ Harvey doesn't know how he can leave when all his adult life he has preached the virtues of loyalty and never giving up. This flies in the face of everything he stands for, and it emphasises how much he has failed.  
  
There's going to be a story. Jessica is going to have to spin some garbage about why her best closer and fellow named partner has suddenly stepped down. The truth cannot be divulged to clients. The other truth that could be used is one that Harvey definitely doesn't want to be used. He can only imagine the speculation that will surround him and the firm if he left for 'health reasons'. The ideal situation would be for him to just slip away unnoticed, but that's impossible. He's going to have to face the music at some point and he goddamn knows it.  But knowing this doesn't make it any easier to draft these letters. 

 

Harvey drops his pen and tries to draw on the only positive thoughts left circling the drain. His day was almost good. It hasn't felt real. He doesn't deserve the illusion of happiness when he has spent the entire day acting sociopathic in the way he pretends that everything is fine and as though he's not about to pull the rug out from people's feet. Harvey couldn't do it today. He needed just one day where he could try and see if he could pull it off and maybe avoid the inevitable backlash he'd face from Forstman.  It didn't work. Every single conversation he had was a personal reminder of who he'd be fucking over by not resigning.  
  
  
The only highlight and real memory of the day is how Donna smiled at him in the breakroom sometime mid-morning. For a few blissful seconds, there was naught but the two of them remembering the kiss of the night before. There may have even been some blushing. Theoretically, this therapy is helping Harvey with his emotions, but he sure doesn't appreciate how it has apparently been tampering with his ability to keep certain types of reactions in check.  
  
He _knows_ that it was just as much escapism for her as it was for him. For a few seconds, he was pretending that everything was just fine, while Donna was hoping that Harvey'd change his mind about leaving. All good things must come to an end, so it seems. Maybe wanting to avoid seeing the look on everyone's faces when he breaks the news is a good motivator to leave in the first place? Maybe he's still dreaming.  
  
There is but one thing that would make him feel better about leaving Pearson Specter Litt, but it's something he cannot ask for. Harvey cannot ask Donna to follow him on this uncertain path. She deserves all the safety and security that Harvey can't provide. But as much as he can't ask her to come with him, can he leave without saying _anything_ at all? What more is there to say?

 

His letter to Louis was rather straight forward.  It was the first one he wrote.  
  
_Dear Louis_  
Are you happy now?  
  
No, you never are, you son of a bitch.  
  
  
That letter was the first one he threw into the trash. He couldn't think of the perfect way to end it, and calling Louis names isn't quite the legacy he wants to leave. Leaving _at all_ is not the legacy he wanted to leave. But even now, he can't quite muster up enough fresh anger to get him to think of a solution. Harvey feels weak and he can no longer tell the difference between the effects of his medication or legitimate apathy. If he's so troubled by everything, then he should be able to figure out a way to fix it. Isn't he supposed to be Harvey Specter?  
  
  
  
"Goddamnit." Harvey scrunches up yet another letter and hurls it across the room. He has to get out of this stupid room, this ridiculous apartment, before he suffocates under the pressure of all that he's throwing away and those he's going to hurt. Without even knowing where he's going, Harvey picks up his keys and heads for the door, not looking back. He hears his cellphone start to ring on the kitchen bench as he shuts the door, but Harvey cannot let himself turn back.  
  
*******  
  
The gate towers above him in inky darkness, silently questioning his intentions. With nothing but a courtesy glance to make sure there's no-one around, Harvey takes hold of the cold metal and begins to climb. It doesn't take long for him to reach the top and drop to the other side. The fall seems to take almost as long as the climb. He is met with the ground which doesn't sink beneath him.

* * *

 

 

She will not worry.  
  
But Louis is at her door at an impolite hour and it’s the look on his face that sends her heart into a panic and her mind into overdrive. Something is wrong, so very, terribly wrong.

 

“You need to sit down.” No, no, _no;_ it’s the conversation that she didn’t know she’d been fearing ever since she found out the truth. Donna _knew_ something was off when she left his office last night. She had berated herself for being dramatic but her gut instinct is rarely wrong and now it's telling her that she made a huge mistake. It has been strained - uncomfortable even - between her and Harvey for a long time, and all today has done is prove it further. Is it her fault for not saying anything?  
  
But whatever she could have - or _should_ have done - it's too late now. Something has happened and instead of Harvey being the one to cheekily visit in the middle of the night, it's Louis looking far too distressed for her liking. Louis is standing right in the spot where Harvey first said that he loved her. There is no way that Louis could know that, obviously, but that spot holds a special significance for her. Of course, all that does is make Harvey's absence more prominent.   
 

  
"Louis."  He's scanning the apartment, doing a little spin as he searches. When he finally turns back to Donna, his face looks haggard.    
  
 

“I said, you need to sit down.” Oh God, please, no. There has never been a time when Donna has wished more strongly that her intuition is wrong.

 

“What happened to Harvey? Please tell me he’s okay,” she’s already crying because no matter how broken Harvey was when she left, nothing will compare to the thought of him never coming back. It's not a competition, but every single act and choice she has made over the years she has been working for Harvey has been to ensure that she doesn't lose him for good. Even the decision to work for Louis. Donna just didn't intend for that decision to backfire.      
  
  
"Mike's been arrested." _What?!_ For God's sake, she's _relieved._ A millisecond, a selfish, fleeting moment where she's glad that it's 'only' Mike's arrest. The moment dissipates almost immediately and is replaced by one of horror.   
  
  
"Oh _, no._ " Her mind stalls. Crashes. Reboots. Crashes again. _Shit._ This day was coming. It was always coming, but in some vague concept of a potential future. It's one of the few instances where Donna doesn't have a contingency plan prepared. It has been an unspoken rule between her and Harvey not to ever discuss the possibility. To do so would further acknowledge the fact that they've been in a legally precarious situation for several years. And Donna has always trusted that were the day ever to come, Harvey would handle it like he always did. In none of her hypothetical scenarios did she imagine that she'd be on the sidelines, working for Louis.  
  
  
  
"What do you want me to do?" This is new ground, the first major crisis she has experienced in her new role. It's an uncomfortable feeling; one that she has never yet encountered with Louis. Donna respects the man, but there's a whole new level of uncertainty that never came with Harvey. She knows he means well but there isn't exactly a great track record of emergencies that Louis has handled. Bad news is far shakier now that the messenger has changed.  
  
"Nothing. You need to stay here and wait until we know more about what's going on." The idea is laughable. Does he _honestly, actually_ think that that's an acceptable suggestion? When one of her best friends is in jail, another is likely worrying half to death and the rest of her colleagues are fighting a war against an unknown enemy.  
  
"Okay. I'm going to ask you again, and this time you're going to give me a real answer." There's so much going on at the moment that Donna will fight for a distraction. She _needs_ something to do. Donna doesn't know how to sit back doing nothing, especially not in a situation so dire.  
  
  
"Donna, until we find Harvey, I don't know how safe it is for you to get involved." The panicked feeling is back again. The ‘we’ somehow excludes Harvey – because he is _missing?_  
  
"You can't find Harvey? Where is he?" She can't hide her voice rising an octave.  
  
  
"I don't know," Louis admits. For a few seconds Donna just stares at him silently. Surely that can't be the extent of his reply? But when he doesn't elaborate, she pushes him further.  
  
"Well, you don't know because he's on his way down there, what? What does that mean?!"  
  
"Rachel tried calling him first. He's not picking up. Jessica called me when he didn't answer and told me to find him. He's not home, either. My next stop was here." So Harvey is out there somewhere, with no idea that any of this is going on. At this time of night, it's a concern. Where would he be, not answering calls from everyone at this time of night? He sure as hell isn't a deep sleeper. And Donna _knows_ for a fact that there are numbers that he will not ignore, no matter the time of day.  
  
  
He could be with someone. Her stomach churns as she realises that Louis had the same thought. Except that the 'someone' in question was her. If Harvey were currently busy getting laid, that could explain why he wouldn't answer his phone. Donna assumes that he's the sort of man to grant enough respect to his partners to not take calls. Not that she can exactly speak from much experience. And Harvey's first love has always been his job.

 

Would it be better or worse if he was unreachable because he was spending the night with someone? Donna isn't actually sure she wants the truth right away. But then she remembers the bigger picture and shakes herself out of her wayward thoughts. This isn't about Harvey, this is about Mike. And Harvey, even now, is Mike's best hope. Donna reaches over to her phone to try and reach him herself, but much to her and Louis' surprise it starts ringing.  
  
"Hello?!" she catches Louis' eye, who looks just as hopeful as she feels.  
  
"Donna Paulsen? My name is Sam Cartwright, I'm from the New York Times. I'm looking to get in touch with Harvey Spec-" Donna hangs up before the man can finish his sentence. At 1:30am, all this points to the fact that the press knows _something's_ up, if not exactly what's happening. Which means that time is ticking.

 

"The Times knows something. They're looking for Harvey," The search party increases. As does the worry. Regardless of who's in charge of the situation, if anyone gets wind that Harvey is AWOL, they're screwed.

 

 

"You've gotta find him first." For the first time that night, they are in agreement. Donna knows what she has to do.

 

 

 

* * *

 

  
  
" _This is Harvey Specter. Leave a message after the tone."_  
  
_"Harvey it's Rachel - oh God, I - it's Mike, he's been - he's been arrested and they've taken him and, oh my God, I need you to pick up, I don't know what to do!"_  
  
 

_"Would you care to explain why the hell it is that everyone is currently here, trying to deal with the goddamn mess you brought into this firm while you are nowhere to be seen? If there's not an ironclad - and I do mean ironclad -  reason why you're not here with us, I swear to God you'll be wishing that you're in Mike's place in that jail cell. I am not going to lose face to Robert goddamn Zane."_

  
  
_"Look, I know I'm not exactly flavour of the month with you right now, but screening your calls just to ignore me is petty and immature. I don't know where the hell you are at the moment, but you better start picking up your phone. Are - are you with Donna right now? You know what, I don't really care. That's none of my business. Whatever it is the two of you are doing, you might want to stop. Alright, whatever, I'm going to see Donna right now, so if you're there, just forget this message ever happened. I'm sure you'll laugh at me when I get there. But we've got bigger things to worry about."_

 

* * *

  
 

She will not jump to conclusions.  
  
  
Donna _can't_ draw a definite conclusion from the sight before her. Or rather, she doesn't want to. The apartment is empty. She's standing in the middle of the apartment, trying to piece together what has happened. The table is littered with scrunched up pieces of paper. A small pyramid of pages feeds the pile on the floor. Several are scattered across the apartment, far flung in an invisible rage. Discarded drafts of what she assumes to be resignation letters. The scrawls and crosses and curses are plentiful.  
  
  
"Harvey?" she calls out, her voice stronger than she feels. Her slow, deliberate steps echo on the wooden floor as she separates herself from ground zero of Harvey's pain. Once again, she's realising how little she actually knows about what's been going on in front of her eyes. And the thought is terrifying.

 

 

The day before was _good,_ too. For once, things felt normal. The supposed fending off of Forstman cast a sunny glow on the firm all day. Jessica was happy, Louis was happy. There was even a happy little interlude in the breakroom, free from awkwardness and confusion. The best part of the day.  It was _too_ normal. She let her guard down.  But as she stands here in the darkened apartment, surrounded by evidence of Harvey's suffering, it is has never been more apparent that it's not that Harvey has been trying to push her away. It's that he's being pulled away by unseen demons that he cannot fight alone. And she has to find Harvey before everything else swallows him up.  
  
  
She will not let herself be fooled any longer. Harvey cannot be alone. Not right now. They can be scared together, but the lies and the secrets will end. As soon as Donna can figure out one last secret - where is Harvey? She pulls her phone out of her pocket to try and call him for the first time all evening. The phone is closer than she expected; it starts buzzing from atop the kitchen bench. Her eyes find it, still holding her own phone to her ear. It takes several seconds for the sight to register in her brain. A few more seconds for conclusions to start forming  in spite of her instructions to herself.  
  
If he were arrested, they'd know about it. There's no way that whoever orchestrated this would not broadcast the fact that Harvey _and_ Mike were arrested at the same time. And they wouldn't stop at those two, surely? Jessica's implicated, hell Donna herself is at risk. At any rate, were that to happen there's no way that the New York Times would be calling her apartment in an attempt to speak with an incarcerated Harvey.

 

The possibility that Forstman or someone similar sent a person to take Harvey is a scarier one, and the likelihood unclear. Again, it'd likely be a ransom case. The captors would probably contact Jessica in exchange for money or power. And the only sign of a struggle in the apartment is Harvey's own. Donna discards that theory, but the lack of information still plagues her.  
  
Donna knows this apartment well. She knows what belongs and what's missing. The cactus she once brought Harvey still lives (miraculously!) in the spot she carefully left it. His phone is on the kitchen bench, but one set of keys is missing.  He has obviously gone somewhere of his own accord. But the only clues as to where are in the letters she's afraid to read. Where the hell does she start?  
  
Donna settles down in the chair and closes her eyes for a minute as she tries to calm herself down. She's of no use if she panics. Everyone else doesn't need to know that he's actually missing just yet; they have enough to worry about. Donna has already promised a woebegone Rachel over the phone that she'll make sure Harvey gets to Mike as soon as possible. Donna's surroundings, however, are starting to put doubt in her mind. Obviously Harvey will find out that Mike has been arrested, but when (she will _not_ consider the alternative) she finds him, he's not going to be a state to start fighting for Mike's freedom. Not yet.  
  
When Donna opens her eyes, gazing across the room, she catches sight of something which catches in her mind. _I know where he is._ She leaps up immediately, grabbing his phone and bolts for the door. Her last thought as her shaking hand locks his apartment door is that she hopes she's not too late. And that Donna doesn't know what she'll do if she's wrong.

 

**********

 

She will not shout.  
  
  
Donna breaks that promise to herself the second she sees the person-sized lump on the ground. Not even her poor choice of footwear stops her from sprinting to him at the graveyard gates, where his father lies at rest. His eyes open to her face, unfocused and confused, but very much alive. One half of his face is pockmarked by the gravel , and there's a sizeable gash to his forehead. His wooziness and the pale, almost blue colour to his skin is the real worry. There's no way of telling exactly how long he's been lying there. It may have been hours of lying unconscious in this chilly weather. Unconscious, cold, and _alone;_ not unlike the hundreds of sleeping bodies that lie in the grounds beneath them.  
  
"Are you out of your _goddamn_ mind?!" Donna can't help herself from crying out. She knows, of course, that the answer to this question is a resounding 'yes'. Without waiting for an answer, she sheds her coat and drapes it over him. It protects him from the physical elements, but Donna wishes it could do more for him.  
  
"Donna," he has the audacity to sound a little irritated. As if all he's been doing is napping, and Donna has abruptly awoken him from it. Or maybe it's the blood dripping from his head.  
  
  
"We're going to the ER. Right now." Harvey is in no position to argue. He takes the hand Donna has offered out to help him up. His arm is hoisted around her shoulder and Donna has an arm around his waist that she doesn't plan on releasing. They reach his car, parked metres away from the site of his fall. Harvey is at least lucid enough to produce keys from his pocket and reach for the trunk. Donna takes the keys from him and fulfils his intentions. Inside is a duffel bag. Her heart is pounding a million miles a minute as everything swirls around her head, fuelled by adrenaline and a need to make sure everything goes smoothly.  
  
   
  
_Harvey's hurt. Harvey's alive. Mike's in jail. Harvey's hurt. Harvey's_ here. _Mike's in jail. Harvey's alive. Harvey's hurt. Harvey left. Harvey's here. Harvey's hurt._

 

There's no time for her to think, she has to just _do._  
  
  
She will not cry. _Scratch that._ She will not _let_ him see her cry. A carefully placed sob as she has her back turned to him is enough for now. But the tears don't stop falling down her face. _It's just sleep deprivation._ The journey took a couple of hours, the duration of which Donna was wide awake and preparing for damage control. That is, after she was preparing for doomsday. She's still not sure that anything happening right now is real until she feels his hand on her back.  
  
"Let me drive." This confirms her suspicions that Harvey is insane. The man can barely keep his eyes open, and is shivering so hard he can barely speak. Donna ignores him, yanking the duffel bag from the trunk. She opens it to find a clean set of clothes. This was a planned getaway. She can't figure out whether she's more angry or scared at the prospect.  
  
"Take off your wet clothes," she orders hoarsely. She is polite enough to give him privacy, but thinks better of it when she realises that he can barely stand unassisted. He's moving slowly, having particular trouble with the buttons of his clean shirt. The quicker she helps him, the quicker they can get to a hospital. She's no doctor, but there's no denying the dangerous hue of his skin.  
  
  
"Donna, I'm fine." It's a lie that's so pathetic it doesn't deserve acknowledgment. He has asked her not to fret over him, but he sure is hell-bent on making that difficult for her. It's not until they finally reach the nearest hospital that she allows herself to breathe.  
  
*****

  
 

She will lie to Rachel.

 

"Minor car accident. I'm at the hospital with him, I'll let you know when I know more. Don't worry, he'll be fine."  
  
She will also lie to Harvey. She has to. He's not ready for the truth yet. Not while he's still hooked up to fluids and a couple of machines. The beeps from the heart monitor are particularly distracting. She imagines what it would look like during a panic attack, and the thought repulses her. Her own heartbeat still hasn't settled. There are so many things going on that Donna has to juggle, and they all rely on her holding it together.  
  
He's been asleep ever since being admitted. Donna's secretly worried about his concussion, despite the doctor's assurances that he will be fine. The doctor knows nothing. He's not the one who will have to deliver the bad news to an already fragile man.  
  
"It's going to be fine," says the doctor. _It's going to break him_ , says Donna's heart. She has done her very best not to wake him and to not let him catch sight of any news that could inform him about Mike's fate. All her phone calls with Manhattan she takes out of earshot of his room.  
  
Donna still remembers the day when she had to tell Harvey his father died. She never signed up for that. Harvey's always brought the biggest, best news whilst Donna has had to give him all of the bad news. Most of it, anyway. "Three to five years" was an exception to the rule. It's not fair. All her precautions this morning have been futile, because Harvey's going to find out eventually, and it's going to be worse if he knew that she knows and was not the one to tell him.  
  
She will lie to herself. _Everything's fine._  
  
When she enters his room again, composure slipping and willpower waning, a little bit of hope ignites. Harvey's awake.  
  
"Donna." Harvey utters her name, and for a few seconds they're back in the breakroom, they've just kissed, Harvey's just told her he loves her and she's holding the can opener like old times.  
  
"God, you scared me!" Donna can still protect him. After all they've been through, Harvey will let her help him.  
  
She will let herself believe the lie.  
 

 


End file.
